_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

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

_Well. Before I begin sharing details of my date with Toronto's eligible bachelor #14, you must know that this man comes with a lot of interesting background. Allow me to fill you on all the juicy gossip. Eeek, I love gossip, don't you?

The Man:
Recently, I was contacted via Twitter by one of my followers - let's call her M - and asked if I was interested in being set up on a date with her ex boyfriend. Dangerous territory? Probably, so immediate red flags, whistles, bells, pretty much everything red was thrown at me. But I was curious/ desperate for a new date and blog post so, eventually, I accepted the challenge. I wasn't sure how this would all go about; remember she's never met me, has no idea what I look like, she just 'knows' me from reading my blog.  In other words, we pretty much became twitter bffs. From the way M and I interacted, (in 140 characters or less) it seemed pretty clear that she was no longer interested in her ex and that he was fair game.  But I assumed M had ulterior motives for our arranged rendez-vous and that it wasn't meant in a friendly, peaceful 'I hope they live happily ever after' manner. She just wanted to get a brutally honest review of her ex, and like I do with all of my victims... I mean dates, I wouldn't lie about my first impressions. Here's to a date with a twist...bring on The Z Man!  

Before I had the chance to let The Roommate in on my newest quest, that very night, she let me in on a little bit of gossip herself; her coworker is friends with M. When he had 'liked' my 52firstdatesTO Facebook page (which all of you probably should too, peer pressure) M noticed this, intrigued by the concept of the blog and offered her ex as a possible date, then contacted me via Twitter. Oh, the power of social media.  I also found out through my roommate's coworker that The Z Man is in fact a huge douchebag, in the end treated M terribly, broke her heart and as things got rocky between the two, M thought he was acting weird because he was going to propose...au contraire, he broke up with her. A lot to swallow?  I definitely had a 'you've been warned sticker' slapped on forehead.  Still, the news didn't deter me from wanting to meet the inevitable dick.  I tried not to judge The Z Man solely by what I heard, but to save my judgments for our eventual meet - because, well, that's fair.  Days went by, and it seemed like the whole set up had been dropped. Until I got a new submission to my contact form on 52firstdates.ca from none other than the infamous man, I'm not allowed to judge, himself.

As I reluctantly read through The Z Man's email, I couldn't help but notice his wonderful grammar and sentence structures. #Winning! Punctuation? Check. Proper use of your and you're, too and to, than and then? Check, check, OMG check! Lack of LOLs and hahabahahas, I secretly questioned whether M had hacked into The Z Man's Gmail account to make it seem like he was a well-respected, educated non jock. We continued to email and his grammar never slipped: I was immediately intrigued to meet this man more and more.  At this point, I was pretty convinced that no douche, no real douche could pull off such excellent writing skills. Right, bro?  Through our conversation, he admitted that M had suggested he go on a date with me just to spite him, and just to spite her, he accepted.  I was stuck right in the middle of this fucked up love/break up triangle.  They were both seeking evil revenge or some kind of twisted way to get back at each other for their lack d'amour. Lucky me. Still, he was willing to have me judge him, blog about him how I please, just be completely brutally like I am of my other dates.

"I'm looking forward to the blunt blogging. Have you ever gone on a date, either good or bad, and had no idea what the person across the table was actually thinking?  Maybe it didn't workout because I took them to all you can eat sushi and ate all I could, maybe my gingery stache was too real for them. Whatever the case, I'll usually never know what went wrong/right and I'll go forward with no personal growth or development. Be blunt as hell. All constructive feedback will help me in the long run and if I'm truly a dick, which I'm not, it'll make for a good read!"

The Date:
According to M, The Z Man was a gym whore so she had recommended on several occasions to touch his #abs on the date and ask if he would bench press me. Obviously fond of his personal trainer's bod.  Well, since I was on my I-hate-my-life-eating-bland-food-blows-big-balls diet and he curls weights with his fingertips, we decided to check out a sheesha bar on Ossington, and drink ice water. A no calories soirée.  With all the anticipation and build up for this date, it was the first time I truly felt nervous during my entire 52 first dates experience.  I was the only person in the city of Toronto driving with their windows completely down during an extreme cold alert. I was sweating in anticipation.  This truly was a blind date!  He described himself as the guy wearing a brown, deep V sweater. I immediately thought of Canada's first TV Bachelor Brad Smith, and his infamous "deep Vs" and got excited. I spotted him right away: his sweater wasn't that deep, and he definitely wasn't Brad Smith, but he was a Canadian bachelor indeed. 6'3, blondish/brownish hair, green eyes, built like a tank, arm span of a Boeing 777, nice smile. I instantly understood why M insisted I feel his #abs. Although, not exactly my type, I don't care for guys with Ken doll bodies and protein powder injected into their blood stream.  It's really all about personality. I actually mean that.  Stop laughing.

He started up a sheesha bong, and had ordered me an ice water, as planned. I was secretly afraid to share a common mouth piece with a total stranger and hoped I wouldn't catch a disease or six. Again, I took my chances and I'm here to tell you that my lips are herpes free.  Conversation went as smooth as butter. (Mmmm, butter) I found him to be slightly self absorbed, and obsessed with talking about the gym. But I soon found out he's more than just one large walking muscle; he has a good job something to do with stats/analytics, his speech was just as good as his written dialogue, his random witty one-liners really got me chuckling, and he sets goals for himself. He's really into fitness (no shit) he's a part-time personal trainer and to further his fitness 'career', he's entering a competition in the next few months. Could you get more vain than that? Probably not. But hey, a goal is a goal.  And I could probably use him for some tips on how to look like Britney -- pre shaved head mental breakdown.  

The topic of M did come up at times - pretty much because I would pry into that subject like a good Scorpio PI investigator should...I wanted to know the dirt!  As much as I tried to get The Z Man to act like a douche... he wouldn't. It's highly possible he was on his best behaviour for the sake of the blog, but in my opinion you can't fake douchiness. That quality is inbred, you're either a douche or you're not. No use of the words bro, bra, dude or yo, no calling the waitress 'babe' (fuck off, FG), no swearing every 2nd word. His cellphone was placed on the table and not once did he interrupt the conversation to check it. (fuck off, FG)  Even as I'm trying to get the dirt on M, he kept it so politically correct and polite. He didn't have rude things to say.  He just said it didn't work out between the two of them, that they argued often, and that in the end, the bad outweighed the good.  Chances are he could be a dick, but not a douche. There's a difference. 
  
There was a moment where I questioned whether or not he was gay.  It's only natural to question this, not only because of his female Ken doll looks and his flaring hand motions when he spoke,  but mainly because of his passion for being lathered up in oil, (probably by another man) getting an orange fake-and-bake tan, prancing around in front of a panel of judges in skimpy spandex booty shorts and strutting his stuff on stage to, I can only imagine, the "I'm too sexy" theme song.  Oh, and he likes musicals. M too shared her initial concerns for his closeted homosexuality when she first met him. I don't think he's gay, but it did cross my mind. So, naturally, I asked him straight up. He responded with a very hearty NO.  Convincing enough for me and we dropped that subject.

The sheesha let out its last flavoured puff, we were all watered out, and The Z Man finally grabbed his phone to check the time: it was a quarter past 11. We had been chatting for 4 hours.  And didn't even notice! He paid for the bill and we bundled up to brace Toronto's frigid winter weather. Ironically for once, the goodbye wasn't awkward: we hugged and at the point he told me he'd like to see me again.  I questioned whether or not this was a good idea, whether M would be hurt or angry or secretly stalk and kill me (please don't), whether The Roommate's coworker would come up with other reasons why I shouldn't date the supposed douchebag, whether the date itself was just a ploy to get blog famous.

So, I told him I'd let him know...

What to do? What to do! Thoughts? My guard will definitely need to stay up with this one. 

To be continued....

La Blonde xx

I can hardly believe that I've been on three dates with The Friendly Giant. That's like... marriage! But alas, after three dates, I'm just as confused as ever:
1. About his feelings
2. About my own

Let's begin. You can determine my fate, I trust your judgment:  We decided to go bowling (seriously, when was the last time you went bowling?!) I ventured out to his neck of the woods, to the west end's Bowlerama.  The moment we met, The FG warned me he was a little 'under the weather' and felt flu like symptoms coming on (like why even meet up with me in that case?) Either way, we still made the best of it, still ordered beers, still put on those sexy bowling shoes - he asked for a size 14, but who's noticing - and away we bowled.  I haven't gone bowling since I was a preteen, so I expected to be a complete embarrassment... but to my surprise, and his, I was actually a pro. No, seriously. I'm considering taking up professional bowling.  I nailed strikes and spares like I've been a part of a secret senior's bowling league for years. The FG's face was priceless, and there was a lot of swearing going on, on his part.  He's super competitive, so it was a riot to see him get all riled up whenever I'd bang out another beauty strike. I'd say things to get him going like, "man, I haven't played in years, I guess I'm just a natural!" and bat my eyelashes.  It was awesome.  

Truthfully, I was expecting a bit more flirting on the date. After all this was our 3rd, we've practically slept together, (albeit, fully clothed) shared very personal info about ourselves, made out... like I said, marriage. So what's the harm in sneaking in a kiss here and there? Hell, a pat on the head or a even a flirty grade school nudge?  Instead, I settled for a couple of high fives and romantic 'What the fucks?' whenever I'd bowl a perfect strike.  Oh wait, he called me 'babe' a few times too, which I thought was odd. I didn't take it too seriously, I figured it was just a tick, or a nickname or maybe he forgot my actual name and called me babe instead? Either way, I let it slide. The point is, I can't read him. And although it's intriguing, at the same time it's extremely annoying. 

After five rounds of bowling, I kicked his ass 3 of 5 of them, just saying, we headed down the street to good ol' Wacky Wings. PS. Did I mention that I'm currently on a really strict low-carb, I-hate-my-life, why-do-I-torture-myself, I-miss-good-food, limited-booze, all-this-dieting-better-be-fucking-worth-it-or-I'll-fucking-snap, diet? Well, I am. And where else to go and tease myself more than a bar with $14.95 all-you-can-eat-wings.  As, one my biggest challenges to date, I sat and salivated as The FG inhaled 3 full pounds of the greasiest, saltiest, juiciest most scrumptious looking wings I've ever laid my eyeballs on.  And they came with fries, no big deal.  Whiffs of greasy goodness filled my nostrils with every bite. I breathed in the calories and pretended like my big intestine wasn't eating my little intestine. I sipped on my lemon water. Mmm, refreshing! 

Now, isn't there some kind of saying where if a woman eats wings in front of her date she's either really comfortable with him, or she just doesn't care to like him very much?  Basically, you can't possibly date a man and be serious about him, if you're eating wings. So, I wondered if eating 3 lbs of wings in front a girl whom is on a death diet counted as him not liking her very much?

Conversation at that point, sucked. Between The FG's blatant food coma and the dozens of 80 inch TVs blaring out sports highlights, his attention was definitely not focused on the cute blonde across the table.  At one point he poked my ear, but that was about the extent of our conversation/ acknowledgment that I was still physically there.  Oh, and by the way, the waitress' name is 'babe' too. Ironic.

My water was done, his basket full of bones, crumbs and blue cheese sauce; we decided to get out of there. Interesting, for someone with 'flu-like symptoms' he sure had a good appetite.... The goodbye was as awkward as ever; (note to self; I really need to work on these!) we thanked each other for the night and at that point he leaned in to kiss me. For whatever reason, my gut reaction was to turn my face... so he ended up kissing the side of my mouth. And to make matters worse, when he asked me when I was free next, I replied with a lame "probably, never! hahaha".  He smiled awkwardly, "Uh, OK then. I guess I'll see you around."  Ugh. Way to kill that one, me.  I rolled my eyes all the way to my car, feeling like a total idiot. Obvs, he was asking because he wanted to see me again, right? I guess I was just a little disappointed that a next date wasn't set in stone, like the others.  So, a little later on,  I mustered up the courage and messaged him asking if he'd like to see me again soon (just to triple check, that he is in fact still into me) and that I didn't kill it with my sarcastic retardation.  He, without any hesitation, replied with a simple "Yes".  That was good enough for me.

We messaged a few times back and forth the next day, nothing groundbreaking, and then I didn't hear from The FG for five days, which is like a month in #singlegirlproblems land. I have a tendency to give up real easily on men, so just when I thought it was over between us, I received a message saying he was all cured from the flu. (Funny, I didn't know that the flu affected people's finger too... that's rare.) Well, the 'three day rule' was blown right out the window on this one, but, naturally, I was secretly excited that he had hadn't forgotten about me.

A few days went by and again, and nothing.  So, naturally, I gave up again. And then BAM...out of nowhere The FG offered random invites: "You should come to a party tonight"; "I'm going to shoot guns, you should come". No planning involved, just sporadic messages and random invites. Now, I'm confused. Is this normal dating behaviour?  Is it normal to be in touch and out of touch like that in the normal dating world? Shit, what is normal anymore?  I'm so out of the loop!

I assume he's still interested in me?  I could be wrong. Am I still interested in him?  I can't pinpoint what it is exactly that I'm not digging about this 'relationship' between The FG and I.  Why is it so difficult to maintain a connection, any interest, or excitement in a relationship that is still so fresh?  Maybe I should take initiative and ask him out on a formal date, maybe it's worth one last hurrah? Well, this may or may not be the last time we hear of The Friendly Giant.

Hmm, I'm going to go gnaw on my carrot stick now and ponder this one out.

Thanks for reading, and I would love to get your thoughts!

La Blonde xx

The nickname I've allotted to my 12th date is so perfect it hurts. *thank you, thank you* And for three main reasons:

1. When The Roommate asked how the date went, I replied with a generic 'Meh.' (like vanilla ice cream, it's usually a choice people make if there is no other option.)

2. When The Roommate asked to describe my date, I replied with another solid 'Meh. He's so... vanilla'

                                                              3. He works for Dairy Queen. The irony kills me.

The Vanilla Man and I met online (#singlegirlproblems) we exchanged maybe two inbox messages, and being simply annoyed by the infiltration of dozens of new inbox messages, I offered him my number immediately, just to get the fuck out of the lion's den. Seriously, why is it that men online attack you like they just grew an 8 inch penis overnight,  yet men in real life stay away like they don't even own a penis. Like, where's the middle ground? Suddenly, hiding behind a computer screen gives you Superman confidence.

Moving on. The Vanilla Man didn't have to exert his Superman powers and he didn't attack me with his shlong, but rather, he approached me in a normal, (key word) calm, collective manner -- well, as respectfully as you can get in an online message. Slash, he really just had nice hair and used proper use of 'you're' and 'your'.  Originally, we were going to head to Toronto's infamous Dark Horse Café, but then he mentioned that he's on this 'life mission' to check out every café in Toronto...  Boooooooring. Anywho, we chose a new location so he can check it off his ambitious cocoa bean hunt.

Instead, we met at Strada café in Chinatown; quaint little place indeed!  At first, I didn't recognize him. Did he dye his hair or something? Swear the online dude had black hair, but the man in front of me was a blatant red head. I def would have noticed that... as a blatant red flag. Sorry, no offense, but the Anne of Green Gables look look isn't my thang.

I wish there was more to The Vanilla Man, but the name says it all. I actually dozed off half way through our date, and at times I really tried had to hold back my yawns... and we were drinking coffee! One glass of wine, and I would have been drooling on him.  Signs of a bad date 101.  Other than not digging each other, we had nothing in common: I told him I work for the news, and immediately he sat up and would try to one-up me on my news knowledge. Like, fuck off buddy, knowing about the news is my job. Don't test me motherfucker. But I nodded and smiled as he told me about things I already knew, thinking how quickly I can down this scorching hot latte. Yawn. I told him how I was very interested in martial arts. He told me he didn't care for it because it was too violent. He does marketing for Dairy Queen, so I thought I would at least get a 10 cent coupon off my next Blizzard or something! Nothing. When I asked him what his favourite flavour was... you guessed it. Vanillizle. He plays chess, I play checkers. I like to gamble, he put $20 bucks in a machine once. I live in the burbs, he said he would never leave the downtown core. I'm cool, he's questionable.

After the longest 43 minutes of my life, we decided to part ways. I thanked him for the coffee, and then that awkward moment happened where no one knew what to say.  We blankly stared at one another. It was a silent acknowledgement where we FINALLY agreed on something... we were both just not into each other.

As I drove home, Charlie, my stomach, reminded me repeatedly to feed him dinner....and I knew exactly what he was craving. I rushed to the kitchen, whipped out my not-so-secret chocolates stash and wolfed down nearly half a box of the richest goodness Laura Secord has ever created.  Bliss. Well, I pretty much have a cavity now, but it was all worth it....I smacked my teeth with gratification, Charlie and I were content, as this wave of euphoric sugar high rushed over me. And then I realized, you know,  I can never really OD on chocolate.  It's the perfect drug. It satisfies me every time.  But with vanilla, it somehow always leaves me wanting more, yearning for a better buzz. 

And that's simply because vanilla will always just be... vanilla.

La Blonde xx

Hello everyone! Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and Happy New Year to all!  A new year, a fresh start? Absolutely. I could write a whole post about my new year's resolutions, but for the sake of your boredom, I've narrowed my selection down to three - in no particular order:
                 1. Drop 20 lbs.
                 2. Be less of a spazz and just enjoy the wave of life                     3. Find a husband.

Pish posh, easy as pie! Well, to start off 2013 on the right nose, I had a date with a familiar face; The Friendly Giant. We remained in touch for most of the holidays even tried to get together several times, but between my ridiculous 4 am morning shifts and his previous plans called having a life, nothing panned out. Eventually, we decided after the holidays would work and we decided on a light fun night of playing pool. 

Initially, I was a little bit nervous to see him. And rightfully so. A little recap:  we had a very drunken unromantic 1st date, where I pretty much blacked out at the climax of our make out session and then woke up with the FG in by bed, while I was in my pjs and a pool of sweat. Luckily, I was untouched and unharmed.

Well, this time around I told myself I would refuse, at any cost, to let him to come into my condo. I am not sleeping with him! (Not yet, at least) Of course when we were deciding what to do on our date, he mentioned having some casual drinks at my place, (ya, wonder why...round two?) and I quickly deflected from that idea and mentioned something more in public and virgin-like like shooting pool. No strip pool here!

The FG and I went to a ghetto east end pool hall, shared a pitcher of beer and witnessed the FG almost snap his pool cue in half at least three times in frustration over his missed shots. I was almost in tears laughing. Ah, nothing like a little friendly giant competition. We decided to make the night interesting by revealing a 'secret' or piece of information about ourselves every time we missed a shot. He knows my life story now because I suck balls at sinking balls. After one of my missed shot, he asked me flat out 'so how much of our last date do you actually remember?'  Crap. I admitted the end of night was virtually non-existent for me and it was at that moment that I used the opportunity to express my intercourse concerns with him.

Me: If you haven't noticed, I'm avoiding having you come to my house. Just so you're clear I'm not sleeping with you just yet. I'm sorry, I'm just not like that. (it's because... I actually like you!)
FG: No need to apologize! I did notice, and it's cool. I'm not here just to do that. I would have tried something when I had the chance.... I'm here for a long time.

And with that, I took him to the washroom and we fucked like chimps.  Ha... can you imagine? Well, needless to say, with that comment, I was pretty reassured. I did however, just to keep him intrigued, promise that when we do have sex, it would blow his penis off... in a good way. I said that with the utmost confidence. Two Scorpios, man... magical!

At that exact moment, a couple of dudes at the table beside us offered the FG one of their Jack Daniel's shots (like WHEN the hell does that happen? Not often in Toronto, that's for sure.) because they were driving soon. As if the relationship Gods were listening, he took the shot, cheers'd me in Polish and as though it solidified our intercourse abstinence understanding, he downed it.

On our way home, he asked if I'd like to maybe try bowling next time, and arranged for the following week. This made me feel great! We kissed goodnight and I skipped all the way down my condo's hallway. We've spoken a few times since, but it's now Monday, and I haven't heard from him all weekend. Strange. I've decided that later today, I'm taking the bull by the balls, and messaging him.  What to say, what to say?
The silence is killing me. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't a man who obviously likes a woman want to speak with her every day? Want to see her every day? Want to be with her every day??? Sigh, it's likely I've created yet another fictional movie plot in my brain and that in fact The Friendly Giant is just a Giant dick in a Giant body.

Stay tuned....

La Blonde xx

I just finished having the best family Christmas dinner, courtesy of myself. Lobster bisque, escargot, rack of lamb. You name it, I made it. It was a great night, I may have gained 7lbs, but what the hey...it’s the Holidays! The night before, I went my first double digit date with The Friendly Giant. And, it went pretty great. I couldn’t fully concentrate on the buttery goodness I created for my family because I was secretly thinking about The Friendly Giant -- when/if a second date was in my near future.  

Dammit folks, I think I’m keen about this one:

We met at my work Christmas party.  What’s ironic was that very same morning, I had made a vow to myself to eff online dating altogether after the disappointing date I had with The Groupie, and to focus on organic meetings only. Well, by the end of the party, The Friendly Giant had asked me for my digits. As organic as it gets. He messaged me as he was driving home that night and asked to see me the next day. I gleefully accepted. To paint a picture; he’s not hot, but he’s super charming. And huge. Like 6’5 huge. 275 lbs man huge.  I’m an NFL linebacker huge. Polish. Witty. Intelligent. Life of the party type. Just my type.

The date worked in my favour; because we went to the friendly neighbourhood bar. Again. I’ve been there 3 times in the past 4 weeks with 3 different guys. I swear, I’m going to be known as the friendly neighbourhood sloore. The waitresses were asking if I want the usual!... awkward!

We chatted and laughed, and chatted, and drank. (Ps. This one drinks. Halleluiah!)  After a few, thoughts of a night-night cap at my place came up. Wine and a shisha bong?  Who wouldn't say yes! I casually agreed to the idea, but was secretly shitting my pants... at the thought that I might have to actually take off my pants.  In reality,  I'm pretty prude-ish.  Having intercourse on a first date isn't how I roll. Although I was breaking out into hives, I felt like he was too into me, too gentlemanly-like, to want to just get his dick wet. So, I took my chances and ultimately let a total stranger, horny or not, into my condo.

We drank. So. Much. Red. Wine.  And talked about everything. I have an actual scientific mental problem called "I don’t shut the fuck up when I drink". I’m the complete opposite of an introvert; more so of an extrovert on speed. I’ll tell you my entire life story in under 47 minutes, promise. He kept telling me that I was ‘glowing’ and that I have this ‘aura’ about me. It could have been the red wine – the fermented grapes make me look like I was left in the sun for 9 hours. Whatever, I took it as a compliment though, only because he kept repeating it.

Not sure how it happened, but I recall having The Friendly Giant’s tongue in my mouth, and loving every second of my life. What an awesome kisser he was. So passionate. Did I mention he was a Scorpio? Well, two Scorpios sharing saliva (among other bodily fluids) is what dreams are made of. Although, we kept it PG.  Scouts honour.  (Trust me, I would be glad to share all the juicy deets of my sex life with you!) 

After that, I pretty much blacked out from the point when we were grade 10 make out sesh on the couch until I rolled over the next morning and there was The FG in my bed. Clothed, phew! I, however, was in my royal blue flannel pj bottoms and the same shirt as the day before. (God, why am I so sexy?)  On a good note, my vag wasn’t throbbing, it felt intact and untouched.  A clear indication we didn’t have intercourse that night. I mean, I would have remembered… right??

The morning was, well kind of awkward? It may have something to do with the fact that I have no fucking clue what happened during the time frame when I had my jeans on and then changed into my grandmother’s pjs.  Combined with the fact that I haven’t had a male body in my bed for quite some time, so I was spooning him as though we had been married for years. It was so bloody hot in there too; I sweat all over my date. Orrrr, it could have been the fact that he told me I snored. All night.  Oh wait, wait... there’s more.  As he was about to leave, I decide, at the precise moment, to take out the garbage. Smart. Because I know what men love: they love the homeless, hung over, no makeup, messy hair, sweaty, flannel pyjama, garbage bags in my hands, Uggs on my feet look. That’s the last image of me he had in his head. Going on to 48 hours now... no message, no call. Wonder why the fuck that is. Maybe he just wanted sex and I didn't hit the homer. Maybe it was because I drooled all over him. 

The only reason why I’m secretly freaking out is for obvious reasons... but dare I say/type it out loud? I actually l.i.k.e. him? Gulp. Dare I have felt a slight c.o.n.n.e.c.t.i.o.n? Gulp. Gulp. So I'll just sit here and wait. It's as though I enjoy self-sabotage: really though, were the fucking garbage bags necessary??

Hello. My name is La Blonde and I’m one classy dame.

La Blonde xx

I’m currently so hungover that it hurts to type, but for the sake of all my 11 die hard followers, I will write this blog about my 9th date (holy mother, I have another 43 dates to go) with The Groupie.

You can tell from the get go that this one was a real sweetheart. And I’m being sincere.  I know y'all aren’t used to me complimenting many of my dates, but he was a genuine nice dude.  He had given me his digits early in the game to “get off this God awful website” and I couldn’t agree more. When I first texted him, maybe half a millisecond had gone by, and he replied with “Hi!!!! My phone’s going to die. I have hockey tonight. I will be done in about an hour. Maybe longer. I’ll text you as soon as I’m done!” and then told me about the dinner he had, and about the expected weather conditions, and his entire life story as a 26-year-old white boy. Or so you would expect following such a detailed first text message.  When he texted me 66 minutes later, we pretty much discussed  all that I just mentioned and some. Including what to do on our first date, who's area it should be in, which bar, which day, what time, how we would get there, what we would be wearing, suggestions on what we should wear, what we should drink, what we should drink in the event that they don’t have that drink, what we should do to prepare in the event of a hurricane. Needless to say, this date was happening! Shit be planned, yo.

The date worked out in my favour as we opted for the friendly neighbourhood bar approximately 148 steps from my place, but who’s counting. He wore his best gray sweatshirt, skinny jeans, converse shoes combined with just rolled-out-of-bed messy hairdo… also known as a pure hipster. According to the urbandictionnary.com slash myownpersonaldictionary.com, a hipster is defined as a person who values independent thinking, an appreciation of art and love for the worst indie-rock music ever. They dress like an urban bohemian meets your grandparent’s closet, they have this effortless cool look and feel. They own over 18 scarfs, they love hats, and just look lazy all the time.

After our quick meet and greet, the next obvious step was to grab a drink. I told him I felt like a beer to which he replied “I don’t really drink”.  My jaw dropped like he told me there was no Santa Claus. "Ew, I thought. We’re never going to work. It’s over."  I wanted to use a dating lifeline SO bad, but I toughed it out. He ended up getting a beer because I pretty much told him he had to.

Conversation went… interestingly. He really had a hard time expressing himself and would often say ‘you know what I mean?’ (not a clue) and gave reasons why he was such a groupie to his no-name hipster boy bands. “Do you ever, like, listen to music?  Like really listen? You know what I mean?” (not a clue) I ordered another drink. At times, he would awkwardly stare at me for so long that I legitimately thought he was born without any eyelids. Like, what are you staring at?! My soul is not for sale.

I think the reason why I was slightly intrigued, yet slightly annoyed by The Groupie was because a lot of him reminded me of my ex-boyfriend. Not THE Ex. But the ex I wish I never had. This rotten odor of “I am the shit, women love me. I do cocaine on special occasions, but I’m secretly addicted to it. Women get tattoos of my name on their bodies. I stopped doing sports because I got into women.” filled the air. All things that made me want to punch him simultaneously in both testicles. Okay, it’s not fair to compare The Groupie to my ex since he was the epitome of a douche bucket.  I still did everything in the little time I had to put his ego six-feet under. However, the more I poked fun at him, the more he seemed to like it. He would even giggle! Pff, men.

After a couple beers, we decided to head out. He offered to drive me home, even though I could see my house from the bar. It was kind of like Alaska outside so I took the ride. I didn’t want to show him where exactly my home was, but it was late and he didn’t prove to have any real psychotic traits. Although, most mass murderers don’t either... Still, I took my chances. By the end of the night, I wasn’t convinced if I liked him or not... there was something off.  Plus, did I mention he doesn’t like to drink?

As we pulled up to my condo’s front entrance we said our (cue awkward) goodbyes, I felt like he was leaning in for the kiss, and I almost got whiplash as I withdrew from my hug. He texted me as soon as I got in to wish me a good night and say how much he enjoyed himself. Oh, and called me ‘hilarious’. For a second, I considered another sober date, just so he can comment on my amaze sens de l'humour…but I couldn’t.

For whatever reason, I really hyped up this one in my head and it wasn’t at all what I thought it would be. So, as I returned to my condo and The Roommate anxiously awaited the dirty deets, an unusual sense of I fucking HATE dating rushed over me. I described the date to her in tears.  

The Groupie messaged me the next morning asking if I wanted to go on another date with him soon.  He was a really nice guy and I genuinely feel terrible, but I never responded. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is about him that I didn’t enjoy. I just know he isn’t going to be my soul’s mate. PS. Did I mention he doesn’t like to drink?

Trying to find love (online) blows. I’m going to try organically next.

La Blonde xx

_So, I read over my blogs today and realized that on a couple of occasions I mention the possibility of a repeat date…However, I have not repeated a single date yet.  What happened, you ponder?  Here’s a brief update as to where things stand/ went wrong with my last 6 dates.

Date #1 – The Joker
The Joker is kind of a joke.  We messaged each other for a few days after our date, even had plans to meet again!  That week, I went to Ottawa for a couple of days and we stayed out of touch during that time, but I told him I'd be in touch when I got back.  Upon my return, I messaged him something casual, just to ask how he was doing... and I got this,  “Hey, I’m good. So we're meeting with Mat and Chris first right?”   Ummm. Wrong girl? Clearly it was, clearly I wasn’t going to find out.  Peace!


Date #2 – THE Ex
He’s still around, he’s still wonderful, he’s still in love… I’m still confused. 

Date #3 – The Ghost
Well, he's not haunting my dreams and I never heard anything from him. Ever. Not shocking since ‘I’m easy’. Moron.

Date #4 – The Imposter
He clearly got the hint when I let him know (as politely as possible) that I just wasn’t into him. I checked to see if he was still online shortly after that… he wasn’t.

Date #5 – The Wild Card
Oh, wild card… We chat pretty regularly; all the while, he’s been trying to meet up with me again for dinner and to fill in the blanks.  Many unsuccessful attempts. I’m secretly losing interest. You can only tease a person for so long. But, I probably love you.

Date #6 – The Over-Texter
Of all the dates I’ve had, this one was kind of a disappointment. We had arranged to meet up this past Saturday at a pool hall not far from his place. I was going with my friends, he was going to come with his friends, again another fun, casual rendez-vous. So Saturday night rolls around and as time went on, no message, no call, no OT. Hmmm. I waited a little longer...nothing. So I got drunk, slurred my thoughts and had a great night.  1:41 am, I get this:

“Hey listen I’m sorry something happened with my nephew and we all went out to Guelph tonight… my phone died and I just got it now! I’m sorry!”

To believe or not to believe, that is the question.  The next day I got a slew of apology messages. Maybe something really was wrong with his nephew?  Up until last night, we’ve been casually chatting but with no real mentions of meeting up again. NEXT. I think the OT finally lost things to type about.

Date #7 – FML
 
So, there you have it. No repeats. And kind of a blessing.
Thanks all for being a part of my dysfunctional journey. Stayed tuned for more dysfunction!

La Blonde xx

 

It's 7:03 PM on Friday night, aka couch night, and I'm almost 2 glasses of red wine in, when my iPhone 'dings' at me that I have an online dating message. First thought - this could work!  He's clearly having just as lame a night as I am since he's online messaging on a party night. So I immediately check the message.
Here's what I received - word for word, copy pasted, no altering.

Tommy's message:
Hello Princess, i just wanted to say you are very beautiful and i know you get lots of emails but this is something different,so fun and hot....i think you will love it and it is so much fun:)....i was hoping you would be interested in exploring this little fantasy of mine with me...im looking for a dominant bossy girl who would love to have me as her personal slaveboy/biatch to use however she wants...imagine having me on a dog leash on all fours as your footstool while you relax and/or have me tongue polish your heels for your entertainment,have me take you shopping while you boss me around and have me pay and carry your bags....its sort of mental power exchange fun games...,most private and discrete relationship...you can literally have me do things for you,have me run your errands...totally boss me around...myself im classy,fun guy just looking to explore this fantasy and see where it will take me...i think you will love it and i will worship the ground you walk on....if you are intrigued we should talk more
tommy:)
PS i am not looking for sex whatsoever,this is strictly fun roleplays,id love to get a new pair of christian louboutin heels for you to walk all over me in:)

I didn't even know what to think. Although very entertaining, and obviously a mass copy and paste to other lucky women, I was more pissed that I wasted time reading his message and not pouring myself a 3rd glass of wine. This prompted me to sift through other online beauts and share with the world. 

Here you go MEN OUT THERE - Things you should NEVER say in your first online message:

Maxime:
Wow, I love ur smile :) If u were a new hamburger at McDonald's, u would be a McGorgeous :)

That's cute, however I consider myself at least a Five Guys grade burger.

Callmecrazy:
Dear, miss out of my league. you probably get a ton of messages, and why would you ever date a guy like me. Hopefully you'll notice me through all the good looking men, and big biceps.

OK, Mr. I-have-the-lowest-self-esteem-on-the-planet. You're just the strong independant man I'm looking for. 

Joni:
Hello. A co-worker told me to join this site cause there are girls worth getting to know...now that I saw your profile, he was right. :)

My eyeballs hurt from rolling so hard. 

Laidbackfunguy69:
I'm sure my first message got lost in your overloaded inbox. But i can tell you're a unique woman. Care to chat?

He messaged me 3 more times, with a similar message. There's a reason why your message got lost. And how the hell can you tell I'm unique?!  Not to mention the blaring 69 in your profile name. 

Samueltheshark:
I love you.

Go on....

ALwyzfresh:
How are u? U into dark skin fella's :p There's a first time for everything! 

What does that even mean?! First time for what exactly... I'm frightened a little. 

Jonindacity:
You know, they've got a luggage store in the airport? A place to buy a piece of luggage? How late do you have to be for a flight where you’re like, "Fuck it – just grab a pile of shit. We’ll get a bag at the airport".

It was a very good attempt. So I responded, but his 2nd and 3rd messages were one-word-wonders. So, I bailed on that one. Too bad, you were off to a good start! 

Have any terrible/ funny first online messages you'd like to share? I'd love to hear them!! Tweet me @52firstdatesTO or comment here! 

Happy motherfucking dating. 

La Blonde xx