Happy 2014!
I thought I'd start off the new year with some new news. I know that I have not blogged in a really long time and I hope to never go this long without blogging or updating my loyal followers and friends.  God, I miss blogging.

So, if you haven't already figured it out... I'm officially off the market. Yes, I said off. *cheers, applause, boos?* (But is anyone really ever off the market unless there's a metal band on it?) Isn't it awful how we fall off the (blogging) planet once we have a significant beau in the picture? I will make it my 2014 mission not to do this again. I miss you! But, I digress.  If trying to date one man every week for 52 weeks wasn't challenging enough, try being in a relationship. I forgot what it was like to be with someone, to be partnered with someone.  Better yet, be attached to one someone. Not one someone a week. I know what some of you are thinking -- being in a real relationship shouldn't feel like a challenge. It should feel natural, it should feel like you're with your best friend, it should feel like home. Right... Well, it sometimes feels like work. Like a full-time job. A job that offers great benefits in the hopes of being permanent, and not on a monthly contract.  Nevertheless, work.

Do you ever feel like just when you think you've landed the best job/man the city has to offer... another opportunity pops up? With a vengeance.  Another door to open. One with the possibility of greater benefits, more money, more excitement, more novelty, more freedom. What do you do?  It's like the old saying 'the grass is always greener'.... and sometimes the grass is so green and so full of fertilizer, it's impossible not to want to play in it.

The Tempter
I recently went on a trip to Atlanta to watch a concert with the ladies. No boys club. We jammed out, shared many laughs, awesome memories, ate way too many Steak n' Shake Burgers (have you tried those? To. Die. For) All in all, one hell of a good weekend. By the time the 3rd day rolled around, I needed a vacation. My friends and I parted ways, homeward bound on different flights. I hadn't showered all day, wasn't quite sure what I was wearing or why, just visions of my glorious queen-sized bed danced in my head -- I was exhausted. Catching WiFi areas in Heartfield-Jackson airport, I messaged my boyfriend as much as I could. Messages of hearts and smiley faces were being sent through the airwaves, I told him how much I couldn't wait to see him. And I couldn't. I people-watched as I impatiently waited for my flight to be announced. I caught the attention of an extremely, irresistibly handsome man on the other side of the waiting area. We played the eyeballing game for a while (God, I love that game) and then I had to stop because it's a stupid fucking game, and my hand was getting numb from the phone/text vibrations my boyfriend was sending me.

Fast forward what felt like seven hours, I am sitting comfortably on the plane (they put me in the exit row! Booyah for more leg room) I rested my head on the window and shut my eyes happily, thinking about how many hours sleep I could potentially get. Two? Two and a half? Just as I was mentally preparing, the seat beside me gets occupied... by none other than the hot piece of ass, eye fuck I was softly mind riding from across the wait lounge. He's so tall. And big. Did I mention he was tall and big? Some great benefits right there. I immediately knew I was screwed. Like, seriously? I wondered why God would arrange such a promising future between us. I mean, the odds? The odds. Too effing perfect. I tried ignoring his overwhelming presence and hoped he was a douche. So, I reverted to plan A: sleep. Well, that was an epic fail because not even three minutes of silence between us before he broke the ice. And two and a half hours later, I can honestly say I had the most amazing, most hilarious, most entertaining plane ride I've ever had in my life. Not one moment of silence. Tears of laughter poured down our faces. We were in stitches.  He was humble, and smart, and charming, and sporty, and cultured, and witty. And tall. I. was. screwed. I didn't want the plane ride to end, and by the looks of it, neither did he!  We had an immediate connection. We exited the plane together, went through customs together, collected our bags together and alas, arrived at the last possible stop of our short-lived relationship. The exit door.  I would proceed to walk through it, as he would continue towards his connecting flight. My one saving grace: he lives in Edmonton, and I live in Toronto. Two different cities, very, very far away from each other.

We stood at our fork in the road, not really moving or knowing what to do; up until this point we had been besties for past three hours. I leaned in for a friendly hug, thanked him for the many laughs and turned away.

"It's really too bad you don't live in Edmonton, I would totally have asked you out on a date!" I heard him holler.

I scrunched my nose, banged my foot on the ground, almost in a pout.  I replied back "that's not fair!"
Because it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. Why was I presented to, in the most random fashion, a man whom with I clearly had a connection, a bond, a physical attraction to only to have it taken away from me?  Even though nothing would have come of it, with provinces between us, why did it happen? Why did I meet him? Why did we connect so perfectly? What was the point of our three-hour coincidence? Was it a coincidence?
I would have been happier if he was a douche.

My mind was wandering.  I always think about the people I meet, under the circumstances I meet them in and why I meet them. I could be over analyzing (no shock there) but I'm still trying to figure this one out. I made my way through the exit door, greeted by a crowd of people eager to see their loved ones come home from their destinations. And I made my way towards my boyfriend eagerly awaiting me. I kissed him happily and told him I missed him, because I did.  We drove away from the airport, and he asked how my trip was. I told him about all the amazing people I met, not mentioning Edmonton. It wasn't worth it.

People choose their partner or their job based on different criteria that best suits their needs: money, hours, benefits, stability, location. Some people don't really have a choice. But, I have choice. Although Edmonton seemed like a great opportunity, with many great benefits, exciting and new...he reminds me of the part-time waitress job I had when I was 14 -- fun but expendable.

He's nothing compared to the long-term permanent position I've committed myself to. Complete with a benefit package that kills the competition.

Ps. It's THE Ex. :)

La Blonde xx

_I’ve been told I’m the “life of the party”.  I have a great “zest for life” and I’m “soooo funny”.  Sounds awesome, right?  Sure, they are all great compliments… but when have you ever heard a man say his ideal woman was one that dances the hardest, sings the loudest at karaoke, or takes over group conversation with her inappropriate jokes and embellished storytelling?  Yeah.  Just the woman a man is looking for… someone just like him.  The point is, being the life of the party often doesn’t do much good when it comes to finding true love.  You might get laid, but seriously considering dating a female comedian often isn’t an option for men.  In other words, being myself sometimes sucks.  I can’t help but wonder… is being yourself sometimes too much?

What Men Are Really Looking For In A Woman
I’ve asked many men what exactly they are looking for in a woman.  Here are some of their top answers (not including physical traits):

“Someone who can carry a conversation.”

“Someone who can make me laugh.”

“Someone who doesn’t take themselves too seriously.”

“Good morals and values.”

“Someone who is serious about their career.”

So, basically I’m the perfect candidate?  Alas, I’m not.  Men are looking for their best friend, as are women. The problem is that I end up actually being their best friend… and not their soul mate.  Not too many men want to date themselves, I guess.  I know about sports, so sue me.  I can keep up with sarcastic banter and I can keep up with the same amounts of beer as you can.  Does this make me a terrible candidate for a wife?

The other day I was out on my second date with a very solid could-be boyfriend material that we will name The B.C. Man.  He and I had already spent three hours on a patio, drinking beer, having great conversation, laughing, etc.  I felt super comfortable but I was starting to sense the “friend zone” creep in.  So I excused myself from the table and went to the bathroom to regroup.  I had an inner chat with myself to be more ‘feminine’, more inquisitive about subjects I already knew the answers to (like sports), essentially act more like a ditz.  So I did that.  I came back and asked him about his rugby experience.

“So, like, I’ve never watched a rugby game before (lies), I’m not sure about the rules of the game (more lies), tell me more about it.”

The fact that I had to even think about not being myself entirely, royally pissed me off.  But from previous experience, being me just hasn’t worked out.  Some say, I just haven’t found “the one” who will accept me for who I really am.  Others say, that I need to find a man “man enough” to handle me.  And some say that I’m “too aggressive” and “too independent”, thus scaring men away.

So Is Being Yourself Sometimes Too Much?
It could be.  And you can go to the washroom and have that mental chat like I did to change who you are, temporarily or permanently. But then again, why would you want to be with a man with whom you have to hide your true colours?  So what if I like to sing at the top of my lungs in the car to 80s music, drop the occasional F-bomb, have an opinion or two, am career driven, own my own condo,  can school you in hockey chat and sometimes like to get drunk during the day.  If you can handle it, call me.

On my date with The B.C. Man, I eventually got bored of my toned-down doppelganger, and resorted back to my eccentric self.  Well, I must have done something right because it warranted a good night kiss and a third date. (BLOG TO COME! Weee!)  Who knows, maybe he’s just looking to get laid by a fun chick or maybe, just maybe, he’s found the best friend soul mate he’s always been looking for.  Stay tuned!

(Feel free to leave a comment!)

La Blonde xx

_Break ups are never easy. We’ve all had them, dread going through them, find new ways to do them. No one enjoys adding another ex boyfriend or ex girlfriend to their belts. Some go over smoothly, others not so much. I’ve narrowed it down to the three most probable break up scenarios: Scenario 1: Couple breaks up mutually and respectfully, both go their separate way. The preferred, yet rarest of the scenarios.

Scenario 2: Couple hates each others fucking guts, curse the day they were born, cast voodoo spells on their soul, pray to the Lord they never see that person again. Awful, yet the super popular option.

Scenario 3: Couple breaks up, one of the two moves on to the next, gets married, has kids, buys an SUV while the other is still trying to find “the one” in the clubs, bars, at the gym and often questions — what the f just happened. Why am I still alone?

Yeah, my accuracy kills me too.

In Swoops Miss Late Twenties
I’m currently in a state of case scenario numero three. I’ve been thinking a lot of (one of) my ex boyfriends; (for those of you who are following this blog, it's not THE Ex, it's yet another one... Jesus, clearly, I need to find fresh meat) He was my best friend, we loved each other for years and years, he wanted to settle down with me and made that very clear. At the time, him being a number of years older, and I, still in a Girls Gone Wild stage, was nowhere near ready to commit. Naturally, in swoops Miss Late Twenties ready and willing and captures my ex boyfriend heart right from under my nose! Ugh. Now, I numbingly click through all of their happy, loving, joyous wedding pics on Facebook making me more and more nauseous with every click. As painful as it is to go through all 288 pictures of his “Us” album, seventeen times, I am genuinely happy that he had found just that… happiness. But even though we hadn’t dated in years, hadn’t spoken in years, I can’t help but think… “damn, that could have been me!”

Was I crazy to think that way? Maybe. Was I in denial? Probably. But months have gone by since they’ve tied the the knot and suddenly all these questions came rushing through me — does he ever think about me? Is his wife anything like me? When did he stop loving me, and start loving her? We were such good friends, we had so much in common, and truthfully I miss everything about him. So, can’t I just message him? What’s the harm in contacting him? Maybe I should express how I truly feel… I was young, and stupid, but I still care about you and I’m ready?

So, I thought: when it is acceptable to contact an ex?

Big and Carrie – Sex and The City Situation
The more I thought about it, the more I thought about Mr. Big and Carrie’s relationship à la Sex and The City. Mr. Big was ‘happily’ married to Nadia until he slept with Carrie and then, well, all hell broke loose, but in the end they lived happily ever after. In my head, writing my ex an email was a brilliant idea. Hey, if he was comfortable in his relationship with his new wife, then my little email shouldn’t shake things too much, right?

So, I began drafting the email… a flood of emotions, a couple tears shed and things left unsaid began being said. Respectfully, I didn’t write anything about getting back together, more of a ‘I hope you’re well, I miss you, congratulations, why didn’t you wait for me? I’m not a rave loving, beer guzzling teenager anymore. I’ve changed, I hope to see you one day.’ style email. That’s fair, no? I was satisfied with my email, was ready to press send, when I thought maybe I’d get a second opinion.

What Are Friends For, Right?
Well, I definitely got several second opinions and in a nut shell, I got called selfish, a home wrecker, insane, a waste of time, and the best piece of advice from my best friend: ‘who the hell do you think you are? He’s married and he probably never thinks about you!’ Harsh but point taken. All I wanted to do was express unexpressed emotions, have a YOLO moment, tell a married ex boyfriend how I feel and if it works to my favour, fabulous. And if it didn’t, well, at least I said what I needed to say, chapter closed. Moving on. In the end, I decided against writing the email. I wonder if there are other women in the same inflatable boat as I am. I wonder if the shoe were on the other foot and a man I once dated sent me an email of repressed emotions, how I would react? Flattered? Annoyed? Happy? Would I leave my current man for him?

All I can bank on now is the ‘Power of the Secret’ to magically bring us together (hopefully in a situation with a lot of liquid courage) and I will have the chance at telling him just how I feel. For now, I’ll settle for creeping his recently tagged pics on Facebook and hoping that one day when both of our little green online lights come on that he’ll message me a simple hello.

You were one of the best men in my life. You deserve nothing but the best.
Missing you like crazy. 143.

La Blonde xx

There’s a really nice guy that likes me. He’s told me he likes me, he’s told people that he likes me, he does out of the ordinary things because he likes me. And that guy is Gym Crush.  I’m flattered, but at the same time, I’m completely uninterested. At first, I thought he was wonderful – I wanted to spend all day and night with him. We shared the same interests especially when it came to fitness and nutrition. He would make healthy lunches for me and bring them to the gym. He would take me out for dinner to healthy restaurants, make me protein shakes. He took me under his wing and became my own free personal trainer. Basically, he did everything for me.

Everything sounds great right? Wrong.  All the attention, the flattery, the compliments, the food… it became overwhelming. And I never even kissed him!  Imagine what kinds of things I would receive had I slept with him?!  Gym Crush is content just hanging out with me.  He would talk about all this vacation we could take together and how he would work overtime just to pay for our trips, how convenient it would be for me to move in with him, how close he is to my job, how I wouldn’t have to pay any rent.  And, did I mention I didn’t even KISS him??  All this (to some women) sounds dreamy, but to me, it repulsed me. It’s too much.  He’s too nice.

Oh, there’s more. He would change his own schedule just to accommodate mine. He’d sleep at his parents’ house so that he would be able to pick me up and go to the gym with me; he’d make sure I didn’t drive anywhere so that he’d get to spend extra time with me in the car; he’d buy special food I like;  he’d wear certain clothes because I would mention I liked that look; he’d play house music, even though he didn’t like it; he bought a patio lawn chair because he knew I enjoyed tanning in the summer.

I felt smothered.  He killed me with kindness, and left nothing to the imagination. He was predictable and I could smell the insecurity on his sleeve. It's as though he was trying to buy my love. If I wanted to, I could easily have taken advantage of him (bitch, right?) but all this to say is that unfortunately, for me, this nice guy will finish last.

I told him straight up that I wasn’t romantically inclined to him.  I didn’t want to feel guilty for accepting every meal, every car ride, every ‘personal training’ session.  Yet, the gifts and kindness persued . At times, I found it almost pathetic. I've never been rude to him, and I would politely decline many of his offers, but it came to the point where I would have to make up stories to avoid hanging with him.  Why is it that women walk all over men who offer their undying devotion to her?  I don’t want to date an asshole, I’ve never been interested in them. But I also don’t want to date a doormat either.

So, a little advice to the men of the world: Please, have your own life. Do your own thing.  Have a backbone. Keep us women guessing.  Lord knows, if the shoe were on the other foot, and the woman was the one bending over backwards for their man… he would probably end of up leaving her. Or cheating on her with the independent secretary.  Unfortunately, it’s the sad truth.  Nice guys actually do finish last.

La Blonde xx

10:12 PM on a Wednesday night, I'm sprawled out on my couch, legs elevated, ice packs on my thighs, a heat pack on my back,  and tears in my eyes; I feel 78 years old. For those of you who do not know La Blonde... she fights. I'm training for a Muay Thai tournament in exactly two weeks and two days. Since February I've dropped over 20lbs, with 6 more to go. I was about 155lbs and I'm fighting at the weight category of 132lbs. If you asked me two months ago if this was possible, I'd think you're insane. I'd laugh in your face, and proceed to eat a Big Mac. But, I love a challenge and I've always been actively involved and passionate for martial arts. With a black belt in Karate, plenty of provincial and national experience, and a kickboxing fight (win!) under my belt, I knew this was the challenge I was meant to tackle. What I didn't know was the physical and mental strain this journey would endure.

I'm a Saturday night disco ball turned reformed alcoholic. I've exchanged my glittery pumps for Nike shox.  I can't remember the last time I ate a carb, or had any dairy. (Actually, that's not true... for Easter, I had a wheel of brie, and some noodles in my turkey noodle soup) I've turned into a complete health freak; flax and chia seeds with every meal, protein eating machine, 4-5 hours training five days a week, calorie counting freak. I've felt a similar feeling to death on many occasions. But I wouldn't change this challenge for the world.  Unfortunately I'm not blessed like some women, born with six-packs...fat loves me. I blame it on my cabbage roll, schnitzel eating Eastern European heritage. My whole life I've always been a solid 10 maybe 15 lbs over weight (so I believe, other may not think so) having to cover chunky arms and readjust my uncomfortably skin-tight jeans to fit over my sexy love handles.  That was then and this is now - I have a body I couldn't even dream of. People make comments on how much weight I've lost, how great I look, I'm excited to bikini shop, I fit into size small tops, size 4-6 jeans, and I can't wait for warmer weather to sell tickets to my own gun show. Legit, I have biceps.

I realize I just sat here and bragged about myself for the last two paragraphs, but I swear I have a point to all this. And that is.... if you believe in something, go for it. If you don't like something, change it. Your body is an actual machine, never doubt its potential. Yeah, easier said than done, right? But it's your life, it's your body, it's your mind, and you have the power to do what you want and and be whomever the fuck you want to be.

Yesterdays, we did something at the gym called "Shark Tank": you fight 6 rounds at full speed and power, with 6 different guys (yes, guys) 2 minutes on, 1 minute off (traditional amateur fighting rules) no break, no time to think. Each of these men had a good 20 - 100lbs on me. I was scared shitless and immediately began doubting my skills.  I was 30 seconds from getting into my car and saying fuck it -- a much more viable option. But I didn't. Instead, I put on my gear, got my legs chopped at with kicks, my head beat in by punches, and got tripped up and fell on my ass. I felt like my lungs were going to explode and developed insta-bruises all over my body. And after all of that I immediately bawled my eyes out. Real manly of me. I wasn't crying because I was getting beat on, I was crying because I was mad at myself.  All I could think about was that these guys were so good, and so quick and so strong... I discredited all of my abilities. I doubted the fact that I'm just as quick, and just as good and possibly (when I land a wicked right cross) just as strong. The more the guys would come up to me to give me a pat on the back, offer words of encouragement, support and constructive criticism, the more the tears would flow. I even cried on Gym Crush's shoulder. It was then that he reminded me of a painful truth: I am my own worst enemy. (Insert Pink song here)

As cliché as that sounds, it's the truth.  I lost even before I entered the ring. Why can't I just be proud of myself for trying? For all my accomplishments? I'm so hard on myself for everything! I wonder if there are other self-destructive women/men out there like me? Other people notice my success and see my potentials, so why can't I see it for myself?  I entered the "shark tank" with a negative mind, negative thoughts and thus doubting my skills, I doubted myself. I've been told by people  before that I'm "never satisfied". It's probably the harshest thing to hear.  And it's something that I'm working on. 

Again, point of this blog is to join forces as women and men, and fight that little voice in our heads that tell us we cannot do something. (And to prove I'm not an asshole man eater... I have feelings too, see?) So, FUCK that little voice. You know which little voice I'm referring to... it shows up at the gym to remind you how much your legs are burning. Oh, and forget about that next round of squats, just quit! Don't go for that extra 10lbs on the barbell, you can't handle it. You should start your diet... on Monday.

I know that the only way I'm going to win my Muay Thai fight is to mentally prepare myself. It's. ALL. Mental. It's not about how much speed, or strength or training I have... if I don't have in my head, I've already lost.  Your body won't go, where your mind won't push it.  So, I'm going to WIN. It's that simple.

Thanks for reading. Good luck my beautiful followers in whatever it is you do.  Follow your dreams and never give up. Believe in yourself, love yourself first and foremost and the best of things will come your way.

Be proud of yourself in everything you do... I hope to someday take my own advice!

Amour toujours,

La Blonde xx

Disclaimer: Thank you to all those who have supported me through these brutal months. Gym Crush and THE Ex have been inspirations to me, and without their patience and support, I seriously do not know what I would do. Their shoulders are both wet with my tears, their ears burning with my bitching and complaining. I can't even begin to describe how much these two men mean to me.  Thank you to my friends, coaches, men who beat me up, and my family. I am truly blessed. Oh, and for you guys who have made it to read this far. I apologize, I'll never be this sappy again. It's unbecoming... like the title warned: A moment of truth and vulnerability.... xx

_This man is unlike any man I've ever dated. You'll soon find out why. He came out of left field - kind of one of those situations where he's 'right under your nose' but you never really noticed him. The Thai boxing gym that I belong to is a grungy room full of testosterone...on steroids: sweaty men grappling each other MMA style, chin-up douches, wannabe street fighter cockiness, battle scars, overdose of Underarm spandex, cocky six-packs, veiny bulging biceps... basically, my heaven.  Something about two men beating each other up gets my juices flowing... anyone else?  I was too busy checking out the sexy Russian man who hardly spoke any English and performing his one-armed-KGB-army-style pushups to notice my soon-to-be Gym Crush. 

Gym Crush didn't come to the gym very often, but when he did he always made a point to smile at me from across the room. This then led to thoughts of 'hey- you're hot, where have you been?'  which then lead up to small gym talk like 'I like your boxing gloves' , followed by the good ole' 'Add me to Facebook'  man trick (AKA so I can see what you look like other than in a pool of your own sweat) to then having actual conversation on Facebook, to the ever-so-smooth 'it's so much easier to text each other, so here's my number', to actually having text conversation, to 'let's grab a bite to eat after the gym', to actually going out to dinner and somehow end up watching movies at each others houses - PG style - and the next thing you know you're pretty much dating. And you've now got yourself a real Gym Crush.  So, that pretty much sums up how Date #18 went down.  Steroid environment or not, it's really refreshing to not have met someone from the click of a mouse behind an LED screen.  It's much more organic.

When I go to my kickboxing gym, I literally look and feel like anything but a woman - not a stitch of makeup, hair in a bun, over-sized sweatpants, a t-shirt, smelly hand wrap covered by even smellier boxing gloves, a plastic mouth guard, I look mad all the time and act overly aggressive, I'm an emotional wreck, swear like a motherfucker and not to mention I'm wet head to toe in my own perspiration. I'm gorgeous.  For any man to think that I'm real cute in that situation has either been beat in the head too many times, or he's desperate. But I'll take what I can get.

It's unfortunate that none of you have seen my actual dates, you only have vague images to which I've tried to describe to you. This one is different. Gym Crush is a whole new level of man I've dated. Ever see the movie Wedding Crashers? (If you haven't, I'm judging you) Remember the scene at the wedding where Owen Wilson is trying to convince Vince Vaughan to go to the country club where Rachel McAdams will be:

"Completely different situation. She was a very family-oriented girl." - Vince Vaughan
"Yeah." - Owen Wilson
"That was my first Asian!" - Vince Vaughan

And welcome to my Gym Crush. I've never really been attracted to Asian men in my dating career, nor have they really been attracted to me. He's the buffest Asian man I've ever seen, super into fitness and cross training, super laid back, super sweet, super easy going with a super sexy job - a job with a uniform. Just saying. He bought a condo by the lake, has an SUV, great sense of style. Need I go on?

The date:
He asked me out many times, and many times I declined. I finally gave in when he suggested a "gym date" where he and I would go for a run together before class and then he offered to train me one-on-one and then 'maybe grab a healthy bite to eat after'. Uh huh, I knew where this was going. His persistence finally made me cave and I accepted.  I survived a 45 minute run, mainly because it was nice to see his bubble butt run ahead of me whenever there was another pedestrian on the side walk. He's an excellent Thai boxer and he taught me many moves I could use for my upcoming fight (PS. I fight!) Basically, I now have my own personal trainer - at no extra cost. Ki-yah!

Since I'm STILL on a no-carb-death-diet, and my willpower is slowly decreasing (someone shove a burger and poutine in my face before I snap) I offered for him to come back to my place for a light lunch instead of being tempted by a delicious restaurant style meal. Again, very casually. My house is just up the street from the gym, so it was very convenient. I whipped up something real quick - and he ate it (bonus) and we ended up chatting for four ‏hours on my couch. Oh, I did laundry while he was there too... marriage? He claims to be socially awkward, but with me he didn't stop talking. I learned a lot about him in such a short amount of time: he's Chinese, from the Philippines so he's much darker skinned, doesn't speak a lick of Asian, speaks French however, has two older brothers and a sister, he has a niece and a nephew, parents whom are still together, had many long term relationships, loves to travel, etc. Soon it was time to head back to the gym (we're hardcore). We didn't partner up together, but I kept secretly eyeballing him throughout the class. Damn, I thought... is this really happening?

The next day, we texted each other back and forth throughout the day - not the annoying, meaningless messaging but just right amount.  I had to work a 9-5 that day and had to rush home through dirty Toronto traffic to make it for boxing class that night - when I got this:

"I know you won't have enough time to eat before class, so I'll bring you dinner."

And I died. He actually bought me a salad from Fresh - spinach, tuna, apple, onion, etc. WHO does that?!  I've been so used to guys not texting back, or being boring as fuck, or just wanting to fuck that Gym Crush's honest gesture severely yanked at my heart strings. He handed me the salad after class, said 'bye!' and scurried off, nervously.

I saw him the next day, and the day after that. Saturday after work, he personally trained my ass (literally my ass - I've lost most of it with all this dieting and I'm on a serious mission to get it back. Brazilians will be jealous of me, once I'm through with this!) then he took me out for dinner and we went back to his place to watch a movie - PG. Not a kiss, not a cuddle, not a touch. He's a genuine sweetheart.

I guess you could say this is Date #18,19,20,21, etc. But we'll just go with #18 for now.

I'm smitten by him, and it's scary. One thing that weighs sort of heavy on my mind - and perhaps on the minds minds of other ladies reading this... UGH - don't judge me people, but it's bloody important!!!

You know what they say about Asian men....................................small hands, small feet, small everything.
I guess there's only one way to find out?

I'll DICK-tate the goods as I get them (Sorry, too easy)

La Blonde xx

So. I blogged once. I said I would give feedback after every date but clearly I’ve been a major slacker in that department. I would love to blame my busy job, my love life or my extra-curricular activities, but really, I can only blame myself. La Blonde does such a great job at recounting her dating adventures, it’s hard to even add to it.

Here’s what I think so far:



Ultimately, I would LOVE if La Blonde could just find a way to be happily ever after with The Ex.
MAAAAN, this guy would do anything for La Blonde. He plans the cutest little dates and surprises her in
the most amazing ways. But alas, the heart wants what the heart wants.

The Russian just scared me. I told her to get the hell outta there ASAP and thankfully she did. This blog is
a funny one but if I can sober things up for a minute, it’s to warn ladies (and I guess guys too) out there to watch for the online dating creeps. I know it’s common knowledge but some people can be easily swayed to “meeting up for tea at his place”. Ew. Creep.

Dating colleagues can be tricky, but every time La Blonde mentioned The Coworker and how awesome
their dates had been, I only felt positive outcomes. They had some fun times, but it fizzled. And this just
reminded me to ask her what the status is on their work sitsh.

I’m happy it didn’t work out with The Friendly Giant because even though he seemed like a charming
man on the outside, I think he was anything but really. Plus, their date turned into a drinking at the
condo (read: I slept a mere 2 hours that night)… thanks, La Blonde, thanks. Love you!

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST… The Z Man. Well, where to begin with this one. I’m partly responsible for
this whole shenanigan. A friend of my co-worker (Z Man’s ex) saw the link to the blog and the rest is
history. Just because of the way this date came about was so out of left field, I thought to myself, “Shit,
maybe this is where the blog ends. Maybe Z Man is the one.” (my first thought was, “wtf, this is just a
Life 101: don’t take anyone up on their drama.” But anyway, La Blonde went on a few great dates with
him and had nothing but (mostly) positive things to say, but still… it was not meant to be.

So then came date #17 with The Hockey Player… who really, I have nothing to say about.

Stay tuned. Date #18 is right around the corner! A gym date! Sweat is always sexy....

As for me, since the last time I blogged, I fell in love. Hard. Yeah…….. no good stories on my end! I’ll be
leaving AAALLL that juicy stuff to La Blonde.

The Roommate xo

Hello all! I feel like I've been on a dating hiatus ever since my three dates with The Z Man. Did he and his ex jinx me? Probably. So to get out of my dating rut, I immediately went online, chatted up a few cuties, selected the least desperate one and here we are: Date #17 - The Hockey Player.

Because we met online, there's no real good background to this one - all I knew was that he was cute, very much into hockey, kept me interested by keeping up great conversations online and in text (which is actually so difficult to do, especially right at the beginning on any new relationship) and that he had good grammar.  So for a minute, I was actually quite intrigued to meet this guy.  We decided to meet after I finished work and check out Earl's Kitchen, one of Toronto's most happening bars, full of suits, the most eligible bachelors and/or cheating bastards.  Perfect, I thought. If it doesn't work out with The Hockey Player, I can always find another option. Imagine. That would be so badass. Moving on...prior to the date, he mentioned that he had a dentist appointment but he would be ready by 6pm. No problem there, I finished work at 530 - so I powdered my nose, touched up my nails and anxiously waited the extra half hour.

6pm rolled around - no word. I hadn't heard from him for at least an hour at that point. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I messaged "hello?"... Nothing. I shook my head in silence and gave the kid a 15 minutes grace period before I peaced the eff out. 6:13pm a message - he just got out of the dentist but needed another 15 minutes to get ready. Uh huh. I have zero patience (I'm working on this, I swear!!) but at least he wasn't bailing. A part of me, though, wanted to very badly. I waited some more, sucked it up and headed to Earl's where he was waiting.

As I approached the awkward man standing outside of a packed bar, I was thankful that my Date #17 actually looked like he did in his pics. Bonus. And he was tall, and definitely supported 'hockey player' type features (minus the black eyes and broken teeth). We, along with the rest of Toronto, tried our luck at getting a seat at Earl's.  It was absolutely packed. With suits. I had to actively stop myself from checking out every man in sight. Note to self: come back EVERY Thursday.  Needless to say there was no room whatsoever and the wait time was over an hour. So we decided to head up the street to a less-overwhelming atmosphere - to one of the many Firkin & Bulls or Pheasants or Ducks or Cows or whatever they are... one of those bars.

At first, I couldn't tell if he was nervous, or just a douche because he wouldn't look me directly in the eye, and acted a bit standoffish. But naturally once the brew kicked in, all was well in the land of dating/ liquid courage.  He was definitely a chatty Cathy which I appreciate.  An Ottawa native, I could tell right away from his tone of voice and character - he really reminded me of my many Ottawite friends and I thought how great he'd get along with them (if he was so lucky to meet them). He loves house music, traveling and hockey. The more I got to talking with him the more he reminded me of someone I knew very well. Oh yeah...that someone was ME. He was actually me; male version. It kind of freaked me right out. The things he would say, I would say. Reaction to certain situations he's been in, I would react in the same way.  We shared the same sarcasm and dry sense of humour.  The world with two La Blondes could either be a blessing or a complete fucking disaster, especially a male version.  He also drinks, like, all the the time and listed the many Vegas vacations, all-inclusive getaways, boat and cottage parties he's blacked out to and all the house concerts he will be attending this summer.  A complete frat boy - fuck, where were you in my early 20s? 

Inevitably, we got to chatting about our past/ current dating life. Again, with the help of a little liquid courage, he told me that back in December he noticed my profile and had sent me a message. I guess I must have missed it, because I never responded. Annoyed, he deleted his profile. Fast forward a couple of months, he re-signed up and there appeared my profile again for the attacking... and the rest is Date #17.

In conclusion, I rated the date a 7 of 10 (huge!) He's super fun, probably not my husband (how many times have I said that before?)  but I definitely was interested in giving this puck star another chance. At this point we had chatted for four hours straight and I had a long subway ride home ahead of me. He asked to see me again soon and I happily accepted.

He walked me to the subway stop, we hugged and went our separate ways.  I was excited at the prospect of this one, mainly because dating myself would be super cool, but I promised not to get too excited about any date I go on... You just never know. Not to mention, I'm prone to having a third date curse.

Love to get your feedback...
A bientôt mes amis!

La Blonde xx

_ Last weekend I attended my first ever 'singles party'. It was organized by an online dating site and thrown at a popular night club in downtown Toronto.  I didn't plan to go, but my friend Lucia's friend couldn't make it as she was stuck out in Alberta by one of those common Canadian phenomenons called 'snow storms'.  So naturally Lucia called me - one of her only other single leftovers. Well, leftover or not, I was stoked to check one of these parties out!  Armed with killer pumps and a killer traveler for our way down (ya, we're still 17 at heart) and we were ready to scope out Toronto's most eligible bachelors!  

Feeling a nice buzz with a smoke in one hand, Lucia in the other, we approached our destination. "Hey ladies, you here for the singles party?" bellowed the bouncer. Why yes, asshole, we are. What gave it away? 

There was a lineup to get in, which always makes a bar seem promising. We were welcomed by a friendly lady with a clipboard who asked for our names and just before stamping our hand, she offered to bump us to VIP.  I secretly wondered if it was because we looked like the most desperate?  But we got free coat check and a glass of champagne so if that's what desperate looks like, we took it. Lucia and I b-lined it for the bar. Vodka Redbull por favor. The first thing I noticed was the variety of men and women in the crowd; tall, short, old, young, and all races of the world. Within three minutes, an older, larger gentleman came by to hand us a sheet a paper with a bunch of questions on it - sort of like a break-the-ice kind of activity.

"So what's the most interesting thing you've done lately?"
"Coming here", said Lucia as she ordered us another round.

Next, a handsome silver fox approached us with the same paper in his hand. He asked the question "Name something on your bucket list?" that stemmed a conversation about traveling and the world, life, and so began the interview process. He was very charming, and turns out he's a standup comedian at Yuk Yuk's. He gave me his card in case I ever wanted 'a good laugh over inappropriate subject matter or to use him for tickets'. Sign me up!  Within 6 minutes of being at this place, I got hit on my two men (regardless that they were my fathers age and one was obese) and asked out on a date. Not bad, I thought. Could be worse.

Lucia and I moved locations, and by locations we literally walked to the other end of the bar and assumed our positions. Twenty-seven seconds later and in come the next two prospects.  My dude was 23, cute, shorter than I, with a preppy look; vest and tie, clean shaven with a shaved head. Here's how the conversation went:

Him: "So how many guys hit on you tonight?"
Me: "Including you? 2.5."
Him: "Am I the .5?"
Me: "It's possible."
Him: "I like your sarcasm. Have you ever had a threesome?"
Me: (For some reason it didn't even phase me that he asked that question. I was more concerned about what part of me suggested I was interested in having one.) "Um, no. Sorry."
Him: "I just had one this week. Three guys, one girl. You should try it sometime."
Me: "Three?! Holy fuck. Poor girl... did she like it?"
Him: "I think so. She didn't really have a choice though..."

I wish I was making up this entire conversation, but alas, shit be real. At that point, I needed another seven drinks and wondered if Lucia's conversation with her winner was as riveting, slash, as disturbing as mine.  After he basically told me he raped a girl, whom by the way claims he's still friends with, I knew it was time to go. Time to go like a year ago.  I told him I was going to blog about him because he was good material and all flattered he agreed that that was fine. Maybe he didn't believe me. Whatever. Thanks, 2.5!

I interrupted Lucia who was deeply in the bag and aggressively discussing Croatian politics with her dude. We grabbed our coats, braced the wintery grossness and stumbled off to the next adventure of the night - a friend's birthday.  I could feel a blackout night coming on.  On a positive note, I did appreciate the fact that men actually had the balls to come and chat with us that night.  Lord knows, how many times you're at the bar and making eyes with a cutie all night, you think he's going to come by and chat, and then *poof* ...disappears into thin air.

Not sure I'll ever go to another 'singles party' again, but it was definitely worth checking it out.  We came, we saw, we conquered... nothing. Feeling an even nicer buzz with a smoke in one hand, Lucia in the other, we approached our next destination.....

La Blonde xx

Hello my lovely followers. I just want to start off by saying thank you - thank you for all your support, comments, tweets and allowing me to be a vulgar asshole and not judging me too much for it.

I must start off with a confession: as you can see by the title of this blog post I have gone on not one, but two other dates with The Z Man. You see, I would have posted these blogs a long time ago as they happened but out of respect for M, (Z's ex - the one who set all this up in the first place) even though I have never actually met her, I felt like I owed her some kind of unspoken girl code.  I didn't want to admit that I went on more dates for fear of hurting her.  But the more I thought about it,  the more I thought about the mission of this whole blog -  go on one date per week for 52 weeks. Or until Mr. Right falls into my lap. (Annnny minute now, dear...) And that's exactly what I've been doing, regardless if it's with a controversial character like Mr. Z.  So, if it seems like I haven't been actively dating or pursuing the mission, think again. La Blonde isn't a quitter! And on that lame ass note, let's begin:

One thing I must give Z credit for is his ability to create a very presentable meal. Call me cray cray, but I've never had a date cook for me before.  Boyfriends yes, dates no. So Date #15 (and #16!) were a real treat. When I found out Date #15 consisted of homemade dinner, I immediately thought of my friend Lucia who often bitches about how men don't put in any efforts into relationships anymore: "Men these days are pussies.  What's the matter, can't they cook a little dinner dish once in a while?" which pretty much translates to all men are pussies. I hear you, sister.

His apartment is located in an upscale-ish part of the city, also quite large, and was kept clean (brownie points).  I noticed at least three exercise balls in the main room - one of which he sat on during dinner to work his 'core'.  For dinner he made a roasted red pepper and tomato soup that he garnished with sesame seeds, a drizzle of sesame oil and parsley. (He's probably reading this in a fury screaming... "it was cilantro, you idiot!") After that we had baked salmon filets accompanied with pan seared brussels sprouts and fresh grapefruit squeezed on the salmon for flavour. Nice, huh? He talked about every aspect of his meal making skills for about a half hour, obviously proud. Pretty impressive for a bachelor at the tender age of 27;  I gave him an A for effort.

After dinner, it was time for some comedic digestion.  Not from me, sillies! Stop it, from the folks at Absolute Comedy!  By the way, The Z Man doesn't have any wheels because he doesn't like to drive in the city.  Deal breaker?  C'est possible.  But lucky for him, Toronto is very accessible by public transportation.  And lucky for me, I love spending money on gas. Slash, he doesn't live too far from me either way.  Absolute Comedy is  awesome and you gotta love amateur night - 6 bucks each!  I noticed we had the same sense of humour laughing mostly at the sarcastic asshole stand up acts.  Good times.

Even though Z Man seemed to be doing everything right -- makes a dinner dish? Check. Pays for the night? Check. Keeps a clean home and points for date creativity? Check, check -- I felt something off about our connection. Maybe he felt it too?  As I pulled up to his place to drop him off (cue awkward goodbye), I immediately started nervously blabbing about nothing (usually a defense mechanism when I'm anticipating an awkward goodbye kiss). I figured if I kept talking he can't possibly land a wet one on me. Wrong. What I worried about happening, happened: Enter Z's tongue in my mouth.  Like a kamikaze of saliva to my face, Z was a man with a mission.  If you know me well enough, you'd know that I pride myself on how fabulous of a kisser I am. Years of good practice. Well, unfortunately my awesome lip-locking skills were not challenged....could it have been the tongue ring he had? Maybe it was the nerves?  I really try to not judge my dates until we've had at least three (unless they are one-hit-wonder online disasters, in which case I insta judge) so I thought, if he asks me out on a third date... I'll go with it.

So I went with it.  Date #16 - dinner and a movie. Chez Z. That same day I was nursing my first well- deserved hangover of 2013 so I wasn't even 40 percent but I was definitely looking forward to a catered dinner dish.  Again, no skimping on the presentation: first course was a beautiful-looking salad with blackerries and roasted pecans and a beet inspired dressing. Second came a lovely casserole concoction of roasted red pepper and tomato sauce over homemade chicken balls and sautéed mushrooms. Yum! Didn't know this was going to be a food blog, did ya? Oh, and I can't forget the chocolate protein balls we had for dessert. Took me like five whole minutes to eat that ball, I was savouring every. single. bite.

Next, the movie. Thoughtful that he is, he gathered some 'fight' inspired movies for us to watch since he knew that was my thang. Yup, I dig me some Chuck Norris and Kill Bill.  Between my lingering hangover and the food baby I was carrying, I was looking forward to a nice, cozy, comfortable, relaxing couch.  Unfortunately, this  was not the case.  Z has got to have the worst couch in the history of couch making: the back rest came up to about mid back, so you're forced to have amazing posture, which I do not.  And if you have a large head like I do, that shit needs to be held or propped up at all times or your neck will give way.  I could have said something, but I didn't want to complain, so instead I would occasionally twitch and try to adjust my neck as best as possible. My only logical option was to lean in towards him so I could relieve my neck spasm and rest my 20 lbs head on his shoulder. With his arm snuggled around me, I wondered if he thought I was trying to be romantic, a quality I know nothing of.  Either way, I must of let out the loudest sigh of relief. And then I passed out, for a solid 6 minutes. Best nap ever.

The movie was done, my neck felt much better and little did I know Z Man's next mission was about to begin. Only this time I didn't even get a chance to nervously word vomit before his next kamikaze saliva attack.

Me: "Sooo, did you like the mov----tongue in my mouth?"
Z: slkdfjskjcvsdjks slurpie, slurpie lsdjfskdljf

Quite the rabid animal. I think he thought he was all Rico Suave, so I just went with it.  The makeout sesh was slightly better than the first kiss, and I got to touch an #ab or two which was a nice treat. But it needed to stop there. He proudly showed off which part of his obliques he needed to work on for a fitness competition he was entering. I'm certain he'll win. Once his shirt was back on, it was time to go. We hugged, I thanked him for yet again another great time and didn't make any future plans. As I walked out he shouted 'we should do this again sometime!'.  I agreed, but I secretly knew there wasn't going to be a sometime.

Meeting Z was a great experience and he's a really nice guy.  I've actually learned so much from him:

1. If you care enough about yourself and your body you could actually look like a statue;
2. Some great recipes and the power of protein! Check out proteinpow.com - sorry Z, I hope I didn't just ruin your secret;
3. Even though you're kind of a horny dick, you did it in the classiest way possible... Dinner dish. So kudos kid, and good luck!

Text me if ever you're in my neck of the woods, maybe we can try a sparring match or go for protein pancakes!

La Blonde xx