However, it turns out that it is really hard to meet new people when you're not in university anymore, you work in a primarily female field, all your friends are in committed relationships, you always wear big "fuck off" over-ear headphones at the gym, and you don't leave your apartment for anything other than gym, work, chores, and events with your girl gang and couple friends. I still feel conflicted about trying to date, it really stresses me out. But I do looooooove the validation that I am a desirable human (hey, I may be trash, but at least I am self-aware enough to admit that a shred of basic bitch lurks within). No, not trolling the sea floor for any and all dicks, but trying to accept the power to say "no" when something is not exactly what I want instead of jumping into a relationship because they happened to catch me in a single moment and my standards have been v e r y l o w from past unfortunate relationships and formerly low self-esteem (if someone makes you feel like a fat, embarrassing goblin long enough, you believe it).
Getting back on the man-horse seemed like a solid idea at the time. I had no idea the emotional journey it would catalyze as I experienced the fear, anger, and frustration from my own behaviour in response to basic kindness, enthusiasm, and genuine interest. That will be an ongoing process, probably forever, but I understand myself a lot better now and do realize that the emotional manipulation has been very strong from two dramatically different sources with horrifically different motivations with the same effect of fucking me up, fam!
Admittedly, one of the assets of online dating is that you have a huge pool of people you would otherwise never cross paths to test the waters with. One of the things I have decided is that I will be avoiding men my age like I avoid paid canvassers soliciting for donations on Granville Street. Crossing the road and focusing my eyes forward for someone who seems to actually have their shit together and is 3 to 5 years older. Career you love as much as you want a perfect, gorgeous, hilarious, princess capable of bad bitch behaviour when it counts? Sign me up.
I am not perfect, by any means. But I do realize my worth and I have done some deep diving and critical analysis into why the fuck my previous relationships have been so catastrophic. It's a true fact that women are generally more emotionally mature than their male cohorts. I have been a mom-stand-in, unlicensed therapist, and sex receptacle since I was 15. Questionable and ill-advised, hell yes, but we can't go back and unfuck our first boyfriends now can we, Susan?
I have felt like an old crone for a looooooooooooooooong time. It's been exhausting putting undeserving wretches first in naive pursuits of channeling love's transformative powers. In honour of our queen Dua, I have my own New Rules. 1: no more "fixer-uppers", only celebratory, mutually beneficial support while collaborating to maximize each other's potential and accomplish goals as individuals and as a couple. 2: no more dumb animals. I keep getting duped by insecure man-children with daddy issues AND Oedipus complexes hiding behind a mask of sensitive, creative beta maleness. Joke's on me! *rocks back and forth hyperventilating* 3: do they have room enough in their already career, friend, family, health, and hobby-filled lives for a meaningful relationship? If he does not violate those 3 rules, we're on to something. Specific, critical, and mayhaps unrealistic? Maybe, but I am not totally cynical though! Despite my past, and the events that unfold in the pursuit of true love, I come out of every situation with a wealth of new knowledge, practice of reflective listening skills, and the potential to punch someone in the face (always a life goal!).
Knowing my 3 New Rules, ideal age range of 28-31, and general motivation to put myself back out there, I was thrilled to start messaging with a 31-year-old sound tech in the film industry. Now there were a few red flags even before the first date. Over the course of 4 days, I had amassed about 300 texts from him. Who has time to text that much? Him apparently, but that's because you're so irresistible and interesting, right? Maybe this is what guys who actually like their girlfriends are like? I certainly have no idea what it's like to date someone who texts back within a reasonable 8 hours. I was finally getting exactly what I allllways wanted!
It was time to meet in real life. God, I hoped we would actually like each other in person! How convenient would it be to hang up my Bumble profile after one date? He's older, has a real job, and seems perceptive, interested, and engaged. Let's get going with the rest of our lives!
Just one problem. His name isn't Jim, as advertised. The day before our date, he told me, via message, that his real name wasn't Jim, for privacy reasons. For you see, he had a previous Bumble date make his life a living hell after he repeatedly rescheduled on her by making trouble for him on Facebook and messaging his family. Red flag? NOPE. I believed it, and somehow overlooked that he sounds like a flake.
So what was his real name you ask? Let me tell you. Tim. Yes, that is correct, the cosmic irony was both a painful gut punch and worthy of a good cackle. I have now come to the conclusion that all Tims are inherently evil. Good Tims are the outliers, like Tim Curry, he is a treasure. Anyway, I took his story about the necessity for the name switch for privacy protection, and wanted to believe that I could withhold judgement on all of Timkind for the transgressions of one bad, sad Tim.
Cari, you a dumb-dumb.
Leading a new potential relationship with a pretty big "untruth" should have been a HUGE RED FLAG. I am so painfully transparent that I sometimes forget people are nefarious. Child-like optimism can realllllly cloud good decision-making. Of course my brain didn't jump to nefarious intentions, and anyway, everything that ever happens with me and men is my fault (the female brain is fucked). And nefarious he was.
As I was preparing to leave for the brewery we planned to meet at, he also confesses via text that he has another "untruth". He is actually 35. Apparently that is also a privacy thing? I say I'm not opposed to 35 if everything else feels right, let's vibe it out. 5 years my senior, sure! 9 years? That is a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch. However, I had already donned a fabulous hippy-witch bohemian jumpsuit, strapped on my sensible walking mules, and done a good no-makeup makeup look. I needed to overcome this anxiety of my first date as an adult. If I hated it, I had a good out: a big presentation with a specialized health team as part of a training session for work.
Anyway, bad decisions aside, we meet in person. He looked like someone's trendy-ish dad, or uncle we don't talk to anymore. Maybe he was? Who knows? They say wrinkles are the roadmap of a person's life. His eyes and cheeks were well traveled. I love DILFs. I was struck by a lightening-bolt of attraction in 11th grade when I saw a Mountain Equipment Co-op clad DILF running with a stroller. However, this was no MEC DILF. It was clear that there were some very strategic camera angles used to create this guy's profile pictures. I am actually a huge fan of eye crinkles and forehead lines, they show humor and intensity. Unsettlingly, from looks and demeanor, he seemed perhaps even older than 35. I thought, hey, if there is an undeniable sexual tension, why not do something wild for once in my life?
That was totally off the table. He name-dropped doing John Mayer covers on the guitar. WRONG AUDIENCE! I never had a John Mayer phase, he's always given me a nasssty vibe. I think I have an unusual distaste for John Mayer as a human, he screams slimy chauvinist pig parading as a soulful loner. Another red flag. Time to abort mission? Hahaha nope, I still went and had a drink with him. As we walked, I learned that he actually was only thinking about going back to school for sound design. He works in film as a part-time location driver...he also works at a hostel. He also has always gotten along better with people significantly younger.
We left the bar and mutually thanked each other for a pleasant time. He went in for a majorly awkward hug and I somewhat reciprocated, already gaining strength with the knowledge that I will never be seeing this California Raisin in training again. I could feel my backbone fortifying with Adamantium.
He almost instantly texted me when he was on transit. This is a Catfish, or some kind of weird emotional manipulation I had not encountered before. Maybe she forgot I baited-and-switched her into going on a date with me? If I'm attentive it will placate her fervent desire for stability and validation.
Thank you for a pleasant introduction to online dating. Good conversation and thank you for the drink.
He then suggested we go out again some time. I decided to let. him. have. it.
Actually, the age discrepancy feels mildly-predatory. I thought I could overlook it if there was some bodice-ripping sexual tension, but there was not. I wish you all the best.
He got the idea after that.
So here we go again. Single and ready to ruin any and all social interactions. <please click this link.
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