Dating is a Whirlwind

Sartre was wrong, helI is dating.

Finding someone you want to see more than once. Someone you don’t want to club with a mallet. Someone who does not offend you and your sensibilities. Someone you enjoy, in every way. It seems like a Sisiphyian task.

And yet I persist.

I’m often left wondering why one would (why I would) bother to try to date anymore. It’s because under my sarcastic, cynical exterior, I am a hopeless romantic. Please don’t tell anyone. If this gets out it will ruin my reputation.

The hopeless romantic in me thinks, no matter how much it hurts, after I lick my wounds, band-aid my heart, that I want to find someone to love and who loves me back. It also wouldn’t hurt to have intelligent conversation and hot sex but I try not to be greedy.

I think I was spoiled with boyfriends in my past. Romantic gestures abounded in my younger years: mix tapes (I would kill to have someone make me a “mixed tape” today), candles, personalised poems (written by an engineer no less), paper hearts floating over my dorm room bed, dancing on the island at Queen & University, etc…Most of the things I loved the most didn’t cost much but had meaning and thought behind them.

Today when you date, you probably met online. Scrutinized all the information the other person put out there and tried to evaluate if that person was worth getting dressed up for. I don’t date a lot, if you knew what was out there you’d understand so when you see someone who doesn’t immediately take themselves out of the running by having something revolting/bro-like/douchey in their profile, you seize the opportunity.

That’s what I did a few weeks ago when I messaged DJ. According to the OKCupid robot we were/are a 98% match. I’d never seen that with anyone so I felt compelled to say so. Messages were exchanged and not long after I gave him my phone number and jokingly said, “Don’t make me regret this” (ok so there was some truth in that statement too). The texting was fast a furious, then talking, and then wanting to meet. If you follow me on twitter, you’ll know that the day of I was sort of ambivalent about meeting – just pre-date blahs. I went and had an incredible time. It felt comfortable. We chatted, shared tapas, laughed, drank; it seemed so easy for once. I felt relief. During our post dinner stroll he reached out and grabbed my hand. I don’t remember the last time on a first date that someone held my hand but I went with it. We stopped on the corner to decide which of the pubs around we were going to next and he used my hand to pull me closer and he kissed me. Not unwelcome but certainly unexpected in the best way. So we spent a few more hours on a patio with an epic storm, literally, raging around that area of downtown – clouds and thunder and lightning – it was unbelievable.

In dating, I tend to follow the lead of the person I’m with when it comes to displaying affection and voicing interest – in part because I’ve been burned and in part because it’s a good indication of where the other person’s head is at. Don’t confuse that with me withholding from the other person, I am very heart on my sleeve much to my detriment. DJ seemed to be interested, into me, affectionate, snuggly, etc. so I responded in kind. For me, I think it’s easier for me to open up if the person I’m with is open to me. It seems like a safe bet, right?

You know when you first start seeing someone you like and you want to talk to them constantly, and see them, and be close to them, and smoosh yourself into them? Yeah, it was all of that quite quickly. We made lists of things we wanted to do together, places we wanted to go. We talked about our past relationships, hurts, our present, and tentatively, the foreseeable future (a week at a time – not forever).

It was fun. It was light. I didn’t think we were being overly serious. No, I wasn’t seeing anyone else, neither was he but I also wasn’t demanding a life time commitment after a month.

Then bam!

Tuesday night “I need to talk to you”. I felt the knot in my stomach instantly and I knew it was over. He went on to explain how there was “no spark” he kept thinking someone better was out there, etc… (Who words it that way? When I followed up the next day I told him that was a shitty way to end things – lie a little, word it different, I don’t know what).

I am not heartbroken. A little disappointed. A little hurt but I wasn’t in love, I was smitten. The hopeless romantic in me was taken by the simple gestures of affection and caring he’d shown me. So now I wonder if these gestures had real meaning or was he going through the motions to get what he wanted? (Post break-up analysis is horrible).

So I want to lay out some tips I have for not manipulating people’s (my) emotions in dating. Stay tuned.


In Four Dates Or Less

One of these days I’ll figure out this dating thing but that time was not over the last three weeks – sadly.

I met someone online like one does these days. Not expecting anything but being pleasantly surprised after our first afternoon of sausages, dirty duck fat fries and a movie. He was funny in an off beat way; polite; gentlemanly; and all the things a girl can hope for the first time she meets a guy. Later that evening both of us revealed we’d wanted to extend that first date but didn’t really know how. Good start.

Daily texts and an invite later I found myself at a church (if you know me, that says something. No it was not a service let’s not get crazy!) but I got to see a side of him that I’d heard about but has to be seen to truly understand the passion he has for it. Drinks with some of his friends afterwards then the fateful goodnight. Screwed that up. No kiss. I wanted to be kissed and he wanted to kiss me but apparently once again we couldn’t make that happen. Mixed signals.

On our do over the next night we had a kinda forced kiss right outside my apartment. I never told him but he looks pretty damn sexy in his motorcycle jacket and glasses. It got better as the night went on. Private jokes were made. Silly conversations were had and really good sex.

Then last Friday we had our best and last date. Full of lust, and dinner, and a nice walk by the river. Dare I say it might even been a tad bit romantic even if we were having some absurd conversations and threatening to throw to throw each other in the water (ok I threatened him). The night ended and I went to sleep with a thoroughly satisfied look on my face. Woke up the same way.

A few quick texts in the morning and on with our respective days.

I spent the day with The Film Guy having brunch, discussing the mess that is his life and watching the worst Brendan Fraser movie ever made. Truly. As I was leaving I checked my phone and there were a few texts about the previous night and then he asked if he it was alright if he went on a date with someone else.

Have you ever had the wind knocked out of you? I have so I can attest that’s pretty much like what reading that text felt like.

Backing up to when we’d started dating we’d talked about dating other people. I’d agreed it was fine. I’d actually been thinking all day how I wanted to talk to him about maybe taking other people off the table but I never brought it up and now here was that text. Slapping me in the face.

What happened next is what not to do when two stubborn people with different emotional baggage (me with abandonment and trust issues and him with emotional commitment issues) run into a problem. Passive-aggressiveness is never the way to go and yet the two of us were backed into our corners taking swings.

I said let’s end it and go on the date – after all you can’t hurt me if we aren’t together (though I was already hurt). Then as he said I kept trying to negotiate back from there. The last thing I really wanted to do was break up with him but I got scared and all defences went up and that’s how I reacted. I think we both thought we were trying to talk it out but I swear everything I said or didn’t say made it worse. I told some ugly truths about myself, which he construed as me trying to explain away all the issues he had with me and what I’d done. We tried that for two days and then he said he just couldn’t. We shouldn’t date he said and that was mostly that.

It came down to him believing that I would never trust him – he has a busy schedule, etc. – and that somehow I’d be crazy about this thinking he’s always with someone else. Now I won’t pretend I don’t get jealous – we all do – but I have never kept tabs on anyone that I’ve dated or slept with. I’ve never been that girl. Don’t want to be her and if someone made me feel like I had to LoJack them I probably need to break up with them. The other issue as he saw it was that he couldn’t trust what I was saying. After all I’d changed what I wanted from our relationship in the space of a week.

I couldn’t/can’t see his issues as things we couldn’t get past if we’d wanted to but the way we beat each other up for two days took a lot of the shiny niceness away from what I thought we had. And I guess ultimately when he said he was already looking elsewhere so what chance did we have…that was pretty much the nail in that coffin.

So I’ve learned that I can end a relationship in four dates or less.

Four dates is now the record I have to break with my next relationship.

Always err on the side of caution because you never know if you’re going to really like someone in a week. Better to seem kinda clingy and insecure from the get go than leave the possibility open because that ladies and gentlemen will come to bite you in the ass.

I realize there were a few mistakes I made, some that were thrown at me in our two day text war, but some that I just realized on my own and it made me wonder how do people ever get dating right? I mean really? Is it easier if it’s the right person? Is there some secret that no one has shared with me? At this point I’ll pay for dating lessons.

I’m far from perfect. I come with a European travel set full of baggage. I think I have a handle on most of it but there are some things, some actions and reactions that just bring out every single fear I have and send up all defences.

I ain’t even mad – I’m more disappointed. I don’t really like people all that often and things never should ended up the way they did. C’est la vie I guess.

#Scintilla – Shattered

Our first kiss was electric and it’s firmly imprinted  in my mind.

The first time we played.

“I crave you”, he said.

The first night he stayed over.

Our first of many conversations about 80s and 90s tv shows.

Dominance and submission.

Chatting, texting, emailing, talking. The sound of his voice…it just does things to me.

On again, off again.

Dinner at one of his favourite Indian restaurants. He was nervous and babbling. I was cautious but desperate to be back in his arms. As we looked for a coffee shop to satisfy my caffeine addiction, I pulled him towards some steps and I kissed him. It was just as electric as the first time.

The day he wrote his GMATs he stopped by my place on his way home. He was disappointed with his mark but he said, “You’re the only person I wanted to see.” That was the moment I knew. He truly loved me and I loved him.

Off again, on again.

Sitting in the Mexican restaurant, getting tipsy on sangria, we talked about our future. He asked me to move into his condo (that didn’t yet exist). He teased me about wanting to have his giant baby (he’s 6’3″), which was compounded by the most adorable baby boy who was playing happily at the table beside us.

He helped me study for my Accounting exam – just having him near me that night made me calm and helped me focus.

I was hopeful.

For three years and three months, I was hopeful that we’d get it together. That we’d put the past behind us.

I remember the last time we slept together. He didn’t mean to fall asleep here but it was late so I shut off the lights and we both rolled over. Over the next few hours every time one of us stirred we reached out for the other like we couldn’t stand to be apart.


I am still amazed that with a simple hug or kiss hello, he couldn’t hide the arousal he felt for me. Mine could be hidden but it was still there – always.

He was the man I felt safe enough to be with after I was raped.

He was the man I thought I could make a life with.

I have so many incredible memories of him, of us but then I also remember every time he made me cry. Every time he just walked away from me. Every time he said goodbye.

He didn’t just break my heart once or twice but over and over again.

I love him so much and I miss him in ways I can’t describe.

He told me the other day, he just doesn’t love me the way he used to and I shattered.

In The End…

>It’s taken me a long time to make this decision but I think it was inevitable.

If you’ve been following me, you know a lot has happened in these last few months – good, bad and indifferent – but I’ve noticed one change in me, I haven’t felt the need/urge/desire to write about it.

When I started this blog it was all about writing the things I couldn’t talk about with people in my real life. It was about casual sex, the submission and kink, relationships and finally falling in love. The truth is, I still don’t talk about these things much in my real life, unless of course I am running in certain circles, but the need to be so open and splatter my experiences for the whole wide world to devour just doesn’t fit with where I am in my life anymore.

Where am I in my life? Truth is, I don’t really know. I’d like to think my life is finally falling into place in certain ways. I now have a career path that I love and I know in that respect I’m where I need to be. I have a man that I love deeply and I truly hope that we are taking the necessary steps towards making our life together.

I will continue to blog as the mood strikes me on my other piece of blogging real estate so follow me there if you’d like to read about my more vanilla interests:

I’ll keep this blog up for a little while but sooner or later, I’ll take it private.

This blog has allowed me to make contact with people I never would have met elsewhere, some of them becoming invaluable parts of my life. I am grateful for everyone who has ever spent time reading my words; for those who left comments that helped me, supported me and encouraged me. This has been such an incredible experience for me, I’m sad to see it end but I know it’s time to close this particular chapter of my life. So many stories remain unwritten – my experiences with being flogged into a blissed out state; my brief time with Daddy; my confusion about my kink and submission; the incredible sex I’m having with The Boyfriend…so many things. But I don’t want to look back any longer and moving forward, this blog, just isn’t a part of my story anymore.



Last weekend was supposed to be about exciting new changes, fun and spending time being with the one I love. Instead it bordered on being one of the worst weekends ever.

The apartment I was supposed to see and was really hoping to rent was rented before I had a chance to see it. What followed was a scramble to find other possible places. Believe you me where I want to live, with my budgetary constraints pickins are slim. I arranged a few more appointments for that afternoon.


No other word can describe it. I was shown an apartment where people were in the process of being evicted. It was beyond filthy. Amidst their piles of crap/junk/waste were not one but two litter boxes. The stove was pulled out and covered in various foods. The bathroom looked like it had never been clean and that no amount of bleach or fire could make it so again.

I politely declined that apartment and went to see another one of their properties. The apartment was much nicer though the fridge stank when she opened it but the neighbourhood and the building itself were questionable.

With my anxiety visibly rising and tears in my eyes The Gay Boyfriend and I decided to drive to Starbucks near where I work. We ordered our drinks. And I wasn’t ready to get back in the car. I needed some air. I needed moment to process what would happen in a little over two weeks if I didn’t find a new place. Homelessness is not a state I’d like to ever revisit in my life. As we were walking down the street I saw an apartment for rent. I called and we saw it right away.

Now it’s tiny compared to the 1 bedroom I live in now and it’s more expensive too but it’s clean, close to work, on the bus routes I would need. It’s not ideal but I can work with it.

I’ve since secured the apartment, movers and I’m getting used to the idea of living in this new place.


I had a complete breakdown on the way home from seeing that apartment. Full on tears. Sobbing. Trying to speak and blubbering instead. It was the first time I said out loud that I was scared for this move. I was scared to be leaving my comfort zone; scared that my best friend won’t be on the same block anymore; scared that I will be alone out there in my new life. He gently reminded me that I’d be closer to the boyfriend so surely we’d see each other more often. With that thought in mind I felt a little better.

Sunday I had a date with the Boyfriend but it just never happened. Later in the evening he told me to give up on him.

I am hanging by the thinnest of threads right now.

Work is pulling me in a thousand different directions at once; I’m moving; it’s the holiday season; I have 2 exams on Saturday; my boyfriend walked away…

Today I had to will every single action out of me – breathing, walking, not bursting into uncontrollable tears. I feel like I can barely keep going but stopping just isn’t possible.

I need to keep going but I’m not sure how long I can keep this up.