When Life Gives You Lemons...

I met Eric today. He's the kind, cheerful man who cleans my building and takes my garbage out. He was cleaning the stairs as I was lugging my all-season tires down to my storage area and I mentioned how lovely and lemony it smelled.

Eric and I have never spoken. I've lived here for a year and a half and we've done no more than politely nod in passing. But today something about that lemon scent prompted me to speak and, perhaps equally motivated by the citrus, prompted him to respond. We talked for a good five minutes before he invited me for a tour of the empty apartment above me.

I've been curious about that place since I moved in. From the street outside, it looks amazing. Plus, it's double my rent, so it's got to be rather spectacular. I didn't even have to ask, Eric could just tell I wanted to see it. And it was beautiful. I can see why the person who will rent that place will be more than willing to pay twice as much.

Thing is, as I walked away from the apartment today I wasn't thinking about the master bedroom with two entrances ("One for you and one for the boyfriend," Eric says) or the living room with a fireplace and huge windows overlooking the street (newly installed)... I was thinking about what a shame it is that today is the first day that Eric and I have ever spoken.

In my heart, I am a person who knows my neighbours. I am a person who values community and who wants to live in harmony with the world. I am a person who knows the name of my bus driver and my mail carrier and the man who cleans my building. I'm realizing more and more that my life really needs to do some changing in order to reflect my heart...

Talking it Out

I met his family on Friday night, and he introduced me as a friend of his and his sister's. It kinda felt bad, but he's been very clear that that's basically what we are right now. He's definitely not going to say, "this is my pen pal that I kiss sometimes when I see her..."

His family is lovely, especially his father. His dad treated me like I was important. You know the difference in the way parents normally treat you when you're just a friend, versus how they treat you when you're introduced as a girlfriend? Well, his dad treated me like I was a person. Like I mattered. He stood up to shake my hand. He looked me in the eye. I liked it.

Still, it's been bothering me recently, the slowness of our relationship, mostly because I don't behave this way with my friends. This is not a friend relationship. It's just not.

So we talked about it last night. I don't know how to explain it to you in a way that will convince you that everything's okay while still respecting the privacy of the conversation, but suffice it to say that I'm satisfied. And he agreed that I shouldn't have any doubt about whether or not he wants me in his life. And we're still going to take things slowly, and I think that's actually probably a really good idea. And I'm pretty happy.

He calls me Lady... I totally like that...

Go Big or Go Home

When love (or even like) is new, you can't get enough, right? I think that's right, but I'm beginning to doubt myself...

I'm in a thing. It's new-ish and nice, but it's slow getting going. At first I was fine with that, but I'm not so sure anymore, and here's why: I think I have a complex. I have this deeply ingrained fear that it's pretty difficult to love me. Or, at the very least, that it's quite easy to stop loving me. I don't tell you this as an attempt to get you to convince me of the contrary. I tell you this because this is my blog, and I have to be honest on my blog.

At the beginning, slow was nice. I didn't want to rush anything. So we'd see each other, and then maybe we wouldn't see each other again for a week or so, but we'd text in-between, and everything was fine. But that's still happening. It's been over a month, and we're still only seeing each other at most once a week. And when we see each other it's lovely and we text daily and that's nice, but I'm beginning to feel that maybe he's just not that anxious to have me in his life.

Yes, he's got reasons to be busy. Good reasons at that. But when I'm smitten, reasons are nothing. I make time. Is that weird? Are normal people this laid back about starting a relationship? Because right now I feel more like a pen pal than a potential girlfriend.

And the fact that that bothers me makes me feel needy. And I hate the idea that I might be one of those needy girls. And I wish he'd just love me or hate me and get this halfway business out of the way.

I guess I'm an all or nothing girl. It works well for me when I'm in a relationship, but it's making this weekly romance thing a bit awkward...

Saving the World, Adult Style

I got a call from an old friend yesterday. It was a wonderful surprise and a very enjoyable conversation, but it was also rather strange. He and I were friends in university. We were in some of the same classes, so our study time and spare time was spent together. I lived off campus, so I became an honorary member of the male townhouse residences. We were virtually inseparable throughout all of our first year. He knew me.

Well, he knew Teenager Me. I can't believe it's really been that long, but it has. Almost a decade.

We started our conversation with the catch-up. In about five minutes I outlined everything that I'd been up to for the past nine years. I feel like I'm the same person that I was back then, back when he knew me, but I'm not. And that's weird.

It made me think about who Adult Me really is. I think Adult Me is more open-minded, she's certainly more of a critical thinker, and she seems much more comfortable in her own skin. The biggest thing, though, is that Adult Me knows a lot less than Teenager Me. What I mean by that is this: As a teenager, I was pretty sure I'd figured everything out. I was certain of my faith, I was certain about my life decisions and why I was making them, I was certain about what was "right" in the world and what was "wrong."

I'm not certain about that stuff anymore. I'm not saying that I'm living in doubt, but I'm much more aware of the fact that there's JUST SO MUCH that I don't know. And I think I kinda like that. It's scary at times, knowing that things like my faith are just that -- faith -- but at the same time, there's something so truthful about being able to admit that I can't give you a mathematical equation or a scientific explanation to prove something so above my head. It's frustrating and beautiful and when I just let it be true, there's freedom in it.

And I still have a long way to go. That conversation with my friend really challenged me... I'm sure he has no idea how much. One thing I've been thinking about is that love is important. To me. To my faith. Love is the most important thing. Not the romantic gushy kind, the agape kind, the unconditional love for the world kind.

I want to do something.

I want to volunteer somewhere. I've got to find a way to give back to the world, to make it a better place. There are many possible outlets for me to do this, but I want to find one that I really enjoy. One that I feel comfortable doing and can do over and over and over again. Is that selfish? I guess it totally is, but I'm kind of hoping that if I can find an outlet that brings me real joy, I'll stick with it. And I'd like to stick with it. Any ideas?

I wish I could ask Teenager Me. She'd totally know. At least, she'd think she did...

Five

I knew last night that things were happening. The way my hand was just barely touching your hand, and the fact that neither of us were making any effort to move... it was cute and kinda junior high and it gave me butterflies.

We've gone so slow and that has always driven me crazy in the past, but this time's different. This time's nice. I like learning you. I like hearing your stories and I like hearing you say that I'm the only one who's heard them. I feel special.

Tonight did not go as planned, but I couldn't have planned it better. I didn't know whether to sit right up close to you during the movie, because really, there was a whole giant couch. But I did. And then you reached over and you grabbed my hand. And I think maybe I had a bit of a hard time paying attention to the movie after that. Yes, it was good. Tom Hanks did a great job. But boy, I wasn't thinking about Tom. I was thinking about how you were outlining my pointer finger with your thumb.

And then we talked, and it was all out there. And you heard me. And still, my hand was in yours. And you walked me to the door, and there was no longer any doubt that maybe you thought I was something special.

I could barely leave your apartment. I can barely stop smiling.

Closed.

A couple years ago I broke up with one of my best friends. I was in love with him, and I didn't think that was very fair to him... or to his girlfriend... or to me, for that matter...

See, he and I were like fire and gasoline. Explosive. When he wasn't seeing his girlfriend and when he was in the same province as me, we couldn't keep our hands off each other. Even after he found her, we would still talk on the phone almost every day. We weren't cheating -- I'm not that girl -- but we were sharing our emotions with one another, and that's an intimate thing to share. When I asked if it was alright with her, he'd respond, "It doesn't matter -- you're my friend and you were here first." But it did matter. To me. Because I loved him.

So I broke up with him. I sent him an e-mail (he was living in that other province, you see) explaining that we couldn't be friends anymore because we weren't really ever friends in the first place. I wanted only to have relationships with men that wouldn't have to change if I found a man of my own. I told him I adored him and I said goodbye.

He didn't respond.

Part of me wasn't surprised. I'm sure it came as quite a shock to him, and I'm sure it was rather hurtful. He didn't owe me a response, but for two years I've felt a little unsettled by the whole thing. I know he read the email, or he'd still be calling. Beyond that, though, I didn't know anything. Was he okay? Did he hate me? Did he understand why I did what I did?

For two years I've missed him. Not every second of every day, but often enough. Even after I found someone of my own to love, I still thought of him every once in a while. Not in the "I want him back" sort of way.... it was more of an "I'm sad it ended that way" kind of thing. For two years.

When we broke up, I deleted all his contact information. I knew I'd cave and call him, so I deleted his number. I would have unfriended him on Facebook, but he had disabled his profile months before. I unfriended his girlfriend, though, so I couldn't even check up on him through her.

About a year ago, he returned to Facebook and all his old Facebook friends were reactivated... including me. I discovered this fact randomly one day, and have been guiltily checking back every once in a while just to see what he's up to. Man, I'm creepy.

I tell you all this because something beautiful happened recently. It was his birthday about a week ago, and for some reason I felt like I needed to send him a message:

So I know I said I was gone and that probably felt pretty shitty (it sure didn't make me feel good), but birthdays are special and you are special and when good thoughts are thought they must be said. So here are so many good thoughts. Said. I hope you're doing well. Weller than ever.

Done. I felt pretty good about it. I figured that if he thought I was a hateful jerk for saying goodbye, maybe this message would let him know that I was trying to do it for the right reasons and that I wished him well. I don't think I really expected him to respond... but he did:

Thanks, J, for all of the good thoughts. Well received. You are one in a bajillion (ten-to-the-forty-two). Keep being so great to the world, it's working. I am well, and I hope the same of you. The wellest.

I won't ever speak to him again, probably, but knowing that I could -- that I wouldn't be met with a slap in the face or an icy stare -- means the world to me. So that's that, I guess. All the closure I needed in one simple message. Beautiful.

Hold the Mustard

I hate mushrooms. Maybe it's something my mother ate or didn't eat while I was in utero or maybe it's a taste association from some long-repressed childhood trauma, but there's something about those slimy little fungi that I just can't stand. I don't know when it started, but I know I hate them.

I had a ten-minute long conversation about food this morning. That in itself may not sound overly remarkable, but this particular food conversation was with a three-year old girl. One of my favourite girls in the whole world, actually. She loves broccoli but she hates lettuce. She likes hot dogs on a bun with ketchup, hold the mustard. She thinks melted cheese is delicious.

Two things struck me while we were speaking:

1) I don't think I've ever met a three-year old before who was capable of holding a conversation for this long

2) This girl's a real person

I know it sounds ridiculous, but there's something about children that makes them rather surreal. I look at babies on the subway. I will avoid eye contact with everyone around me, but for some reason I'm comfortable looking a baby, or even a preschooler, straight in the face. What's with that? At what point does a child become a person with a knowledge of social norms and the capacity to judge me? When do they develop opinions?

I love that little girl, and our food conversation was the highlight of my day (well, one of them, at least. I had a pretty good day). I've always just figured the kid liked me because I was around -- kids don't discriminate, right? But if she knows she likes broccoli and she knows she hates lettuce, then maybe, actually, for real, she thinks I'm pretty alright.

That makes me feel pretty alright.

Finding Love... Actually

Dear Blog,

I've missed you. Really, I have. I know it's been a long time since we spoke, but there's good reason for that. I've stepped away from my computer. I've left the world of e-dating and have begun to focus on the world outside the web. There was no real event that prompted this exodus, it was just time. Time to get to know Real Life and Five and to see who else's hands weren't connected to a keyboard.

And I did get to know them. Real Life and I went on our September date, and it was wonderful. And Five and I have met a few times, and that was wonderful too. And things are complicated and confusing, but not that confusing really. There are answers, and I think I'm probably learning them. But one of the answers, I think, is to stop blogging about it.

These are real men. I know the e-men are real too, but there's something so much more real about meeting a man whose profile I haven't yet read; whose life I have yet to discover. I don't want to blog anymore. At least, not about this.

But that's the thing: I still want to blog. So how do I do that? I guess I need a new experiment. I'm like that "Julie and Julia" girl who couldn't blog 'til she found a cookbook. What's my gimmick? Where do I go from here?

Oh Blog, you've gotta help me. For us to stay connected, I need some new material. I'm not saying I'll never write about my love life again - let's face it, there's some good stuff there - but we've gotta change the focus.

Little help?

Hold the phone. Wait a sec. What about this? What if I actually do what my blog has been advertising all along? Romantic love is not the only love there is to be found. There's love all around us. And beauty. And I love that stuff. And I love writing about that stuff. That's what I'll do, Blog. I'll find love and then I'll write the love. And it'll be lovely.

Love it.

Hole 7, Date Like You Mean It

So with the help of Google Maps I made my way to the mini putt date this evening (it took 23 minutes of travel time, just as google had predicted). I don't know why, but I seem to dread dates. Once I'm actually in the date it's fine, but the leadup is always brutal. I very rarely actually want to go. I'd definitely rather stay home and watch TV.

I was early, so Gilbert hadn't arrived yet. When he pulled up in his white Honda Civic and got out of his car, he looked at me in a way that made me feel beautiful. I was very aware of the way I was standing and of how my hair was blowing in the wind. It was strange and wonderful.

We got our putters and I ended up paying for our games (he totally intended to, but I insisted). He picked the blue ball because he was wearing a blue shirt, and I picked the purple ball on account of my purple shirt. Yes, that was my idea. Yes, I basically made him pick the blue ball. And yes, I did hope the connotation of his ball wouldn't strike him as it struck me. Oh my......

So this guy is a golfer. He knows what he's doing. But he was very relaxed about the whole thing, allowing me to retry horrible shots and ignoring the five swings it took me to sink a ball that should have been sunk in one. He taught me how to hold my putter, but didn't push his lessons on me. It made me want to actually do it right. There was a group of four ahead of us, so we played every hole twice instead of standing there waiting. Then we took our best score out of both tries as the score to write on the card.

The group ahead of us was part of an even bigger group. A church youth group, as it turns out. They were playing "Epic Golf," which basically was mini golf with a bunch of weird rules for each hole (Hole 4, face backward and putt the ball between your legs; hole 12, hold the club to your head and spin around ten times before putting; hole 17, don't get the ball into the hole - player closest to the hole after 3 strokes gets the least amount of points...). The group was really nice and tried to let us go ahead of them, but there were so many groups doing the same thing, we inevitably had to wait at some point. We talked to them for a bit and they ended up convincing us to try their game for the last three holes. I felt silly. It was fun.

Gilbert complimented me on my shirt. He said I looked cute.

After our game (the score card said we tied, but he totally won) we agreed that the night was not over. We headed back to his area of the city for some drinks and snacks. He brought me to a bar that he used to frequent quite often. We ordered beer and nachos and talked.

We talked about many things, but we eventually began talking about The Site. He asked me how I had come about joining. I got a little anxious, because I was sure he didn't want to know that I am sharing the details of our date, however anonymous I am keeping his identity. I ended up caving just a bit, and fessing up about the fact that my friends are paying for it and that they were the ones who convinced me to join. Then I started gushing about how wonderful they all are, and how nice it is to be able to share stuff like this with them.

We talked about dating many people at once, and how it's no big deal as long as it remains casual. We talked about how interesting The Site is from a sociological perspective, and we talked about some of our strategies and struggles on The Site. I even told him about my first- and second-date outfit method. He applauded me for my ingenuity.

After a couple hours of fairly good conversation he paid the bill and we left the bar. He walked me to my car and asked for a hug. (That's always awkward, when they ask. Really, though, I guess I can't blame them. It'd be worse to just go in for a hug and be denied, right?) I granted him the hug willingly and we parted ways.

Upon reflection, I am comfortable saying that this date was pretty good. I think if he asked me out again, I'd say yes. (For the record, it'd be my first third-date with a man from The Site. That's big). On a scale of one to ten, I'd say Gilbert has moved up from a seven to about an eight. He's pretty alright.

Thing is, though, I got home and had a message waiting for me on my answering machine. It was from Real Life. Oh, I totally like him. He texted me today to tell me about the new puppy he just got. He sent me a picture and everything. I felt earlier on that I was the only one initiating contact, but that's not the case anymore. He has contacted me four individual times just today! He's cute and he's real... and we have physical chemistry, which is more than I can say about Gilbert... so far...

I don't know... They're both great. And I got another message from Five today that was great too. I like them all, I think, and that's strange to me. I feel like I'm lying to each of them when I don't explain that I'm going on dates with other guys. At the same time, I'm still trying to figure out whether there are actually feelings with them, or if I can just see that they're quality. It's one thing to know someone's a great guy; it's another thing entirely to want to kiss that great guy. All things considered, I think so far I'm still leaning towards Real Life as my favourite of the three, but the other two are definitely not out of the game yet.

Wow. That just made me feel dirty, calling it a game. Is that what my love life has become? This is weird........

Reality Dating (Virtually)

I had a phone date with Real Life a couple days ago. It was nice and I giggled a lot and we talked about some real things... I don't think he realized that I got his jokes. I guess maybe I respond to jokes in a dryly sarcastic manner, so people don't realize that I am also joking. I guess maybe, if Real Life and I will be continuing this long-distance correspondence, I'll have to work on that a bit. We have a date scheduled for September when he comes back to the city for a week-long visit. I read on his Facebook page that he's planning on moving back here next March, but I don't know that yet because he hasn't told me.

There's also another guy, who is sort of from real life. He's the brother of a new girlfriend of mine. We haven't yet met in person, but we've been talking on Facebook. So far we've only discussed the topic of music in any depth, and he's a die-hard fan of Ben Folds (a man I also happen to quite appreciate). So I guess let's call this sort of real life guy Five (because of Ben's previous band. Get it? Get it???)

Five seems okay enough, although it's always a little scary when friends are involved. What if I don't end up liking him? Will my new girlfriend hate me? And do you think he's telling her everything I say to him? He probably is. That's probably okay...

Oh, and Gilbert and I have a date booked for this week. I did a horrible thing and played rather aloof after our last cemetery date. He texted me a few times and I kept not being able to respond right away - I was getting ready to go on a canoe trip that weekend. I told him I'd drop him a line when I got back...... and I didn't. I know, horrible. I really did intend to, I just wasn't very inspired at any given moment, so I kept putting it off.

He texted me today and asked if I had fallen in the lake. Cute. I don't deserve him. But isn't this neat??? All you blog readers who have heard me say time and time again that I want to be pursued: CHECK IT OUT!!! I think that just might be what is happening. We small-talked for a bit and told each other about our plans for the upcoming weekend. He said that his family was getting together at his uncle's "property" (is that rich-person-speak for "estate"?) which is nearby:

I'd love to ask you to come but I worry it would be too much since we've only been on one semi-creepy date, so I'll just hint at it :) Do you like mini putt?

Again, cute. I absorbed the hint without really responding to it (he's right, it would be too much) and let him know that I do, in fact, enjoy mini putt. At least, I liked it seven years ago, which I think is the last time I played. So that's that. We're mini putting on Thursday.

And now I have to figure out what the heck I'm doing. And thinking. And feeling. I know that dating is not the same as marriage, especially not casual dating, but I'm a one-man woman. Always have been. At what point do I become a two-timer (or, heaven forbid, a three-timer)? At what point do I decide that I like one guy more than the rest and say goodbye to the others?

At what point do I decide to end this blog? Because if my mission is successful, termination is inevitable...

Are You Afraid of the Dark?

Never say I'm not a woman of my word.

I took a month, and I sat back. I just let things happen. Broker did end up asking me out on a third date, and I had nothing really holding me back, but no real reason to go either, so I said no. It was for the best, really. I mean, he's great, but I'm just not excited about him.

And then my computer died. Work was so busy in the month of June and then I started a summer course, so I still haven't had an opportunity to get it fixed. (Case in point: I just broke into my sister's house and am using her computer to type out this blog). There were a couple guys that I was talking to, but having no computer made it extremely difficult to be a reliable communicator, and they all ended up losing interest; including The Comedian, I'm pretty sure. Haven't heard from him in a couple weeks.

But one exciting thing did happen in the past month: Gilbert has come home. It took him a few weeks to contact me after settling back into his Toronto life, but he eventually came through, and we planned a date. For this evening. We just said goodbye.

Now before I tell you about the date, I must remind you of how Gilbert and I began talking in the first place. He sent me a message, latching on to the whole cemetery thing (I've mentioned that I say in my profile how much I love a certain cemetery in town, right? Well, I do, and guys always seem to gravitate towards that as a point of conversation). This message, the very first time I ever heard from him, said that he lives very close to the cemetery, but that he's never been and he thought we should go for a walk. Our conversation sprung from there, revealing the fact that he couldn't actually go for the walk yet because he was in the Czech Republic, yada yada yada... So every conversation we've ever had about meeting each other has been just as much about the cemetery as the meeting itself.

Next important piece of information: Gilbert works long hours. He often doesn't get home until around 7 or 8 PM. That means that the earliest we could plan to get together was 8:30 PM. Yes, that's right - we planned a walk through a cemetery at 8:30 PM.

If you're wondering if I have loving, supportive and protective friends who take care of me, the answer is yes. As soon as they heard about the date, they became rather concerned. I was given specific instructions regarding how light it needed to be to be able to remain in the cemetery, as well as a lesson on street lights and how they are a good indication of how late is too late. They also suggested I bring a rape whistle in my purse... ridiculous...

So this afternoon, as I was getting ready for my date, I started to panic. I've spent so long building Gilbert up in my head, I was almost afraid to meet him. I took about an hour figuring out what to wear (my first date outfit was no good as it's no longer winter and the green shirt is long-sleeved. For the record, the second date outfit will need to be re-thought as well. So much work...) I settled on black flip flops, a cute skirt with a maroon print, a ruffly, sleeveless black shirt and curly hair. Silver hoop earrings and Celtic cross necklace. (I should also say that I scoured my apartment for the whistle I'd been given back when I was an orientation leader in University. That's right, my rape whistle. I found it and put it in my purse. Better safe than sorry, right? Right. Guess my friends weren't so ridiculous after all. Or, at least, if they are, I am too.) I still wasn't sure about the outfit as I left the house, until a guy came out of a store right in front of me and made up a song on the spot about how my name was "Cutie." Thank you, Store Man...

I suppose I should let you know at this point that my mind has been elsewhere lately. I met a real life man last weekend who's actually pretty wonderful. We were clearly both into each other, but he doesn't live in the city (or the province, for that matter), which complicates things. He has my number, email address, everything, but definitely hasn't contacted me yet. So I'm thinking about that.

Gilbert was late for our date. He texted at 8:33, saying that the bus hadn't shown up. He was actually pretty close by and I had driven my car, so I offered to come pick him up. His directions were, "Head down the street and you'll see me walking towards you, wearing your favourite colour." Amazing. As if he purposely took note of the silly comment I made one time about how my favourite colour was brown! Sure enough, I drove down the street and there he was, brown shirt and all.

We drove back to the cemetery, found a parking spot and headed out for our walk. By this time it was 8:45. I tried not to think about my friends and the looks of disappointment and apprehension I'd be receiving if they knew what was going on. I started walking at super speed (only slightly faster than my regular pace - for some reason I'm a very fast walker.) We walked around for a bit, and I could feel the sky growing darker and darker. As soon as I realized that it was bats circling our heads and not birds, I decided that we should head towards the exit.

The thing about cemeteries, apparently, is that they close at night. The exit was locked, the gates too high to climb. I panicked for only a moment, and then decided to try another exit. Even if this second exit was locked, I seemed to remember the gates being rather low. I was pretty confident I could climb them, even in that stupid skirt.

It took us a while to navigate our way through the cemetery in the growing darkness, but we enjoyed ourselves in the meantime. We found a willow tree and Gilbert suggested we swing from its branches. Done and done. We finally found the second gate, locked just as the first. I took my shoes off, threw them over the fence, and tried to climb as expertly as possible while still clinging to my skirt for modesty's sake. I made it over in one piece. Thank the good Lord.

With the night still young, Gilbert suggested we get some gelato. We grabbed the car and relocated.

He swings his arms a lot, kind of like a monkey or a second-grader, and he sometimes walks with his head down as though he's got something to be ashamed of. But he's got beautiful, rich brown eyes and he's a good height. For those of you from my hometown, he kind of looks like Eric, but skinnier. Oh, and he didn't remember all the time, but you could tell he was trying really hard to remember to be a gentleman. He made me walk on the inside once, rather awkwardly, and it was totally cute. And he always held the door.

He got Raspberry and Pomegranate/Blueberry gelato and I got Pomegranate/Blueberry and Lemon. Both in sugar cones. He asked if he could treat me. It was sweet.

Gelato in hand, we decided to stroll around the neighbourhood and look at houses. He likes to do that almost as much as I do, apparently. He even understood my sentiments about the majestic power of the Red Door. At least, he said he did...

We only got lost once, and it was only sort of lost. Disoriented, really. By 10:40 we had found our way back to my car. I drove him home and we said goodbye.

Ten minutes later I received a text:

"Thanks again for the wonderful evening. You're super cute and I really enjoyed your company!"

He actually said, "Your super cute," but I'm deciding not to hold that against him.

So that was my date with Gilbert. I think I had a pretty good time. I'm not smitten by any means, but this one seems like he's a pretty alright guy. I think, if he's willing, I'll see him again. And in the mean time, maybe I'll try not to sit by the phone and wait for a real life call from a real life man. Oh jeepers...

Farm Boy, Fetch Me That Pitcher.

I've figured it out: Broker looks like a taller, chunkier Cary Elwes... with brown hair... and a bit of a higher voice... (You know Cary Elwes - of Princess Bride fame? Our dear sweet Westley, with eyes like the sea after a storm? Yeah, that guy). I saw him again on Sunday. But wait, let's backtrack a bit. It's been a big week.

Gilbert was a no show on the 8th. As a matter of fact, he's still not back. He sent me a message, and apparently he'll be staying in the Czech Republic pretty much all summer. What's worse, I'm pretty sure I dropped the ball in the way that I responded. I think I overdid it. I haven't heard from him in a few days... But perhaps it's for the best. It's tough to imagine having to get to know someone all summer over email, staying interested while still remaining uninvested.

So then there's Broker. He sent me an email last Sunday asking me to dinner and a movie. I put off answering for a day or two, partially because I was hoping that Gilbert would come home and I could meet him first... but also because I think dinner and a movie was a little daunting to me. It's so datey! Could I really find conversation topics to fill a full meal? This guy doesn't talk much. And there's also the issue of pay. He paid for our drinks last time, so does that mean he'd pay for the date this time too? I'd feel horrible letting him dish out all that cash just for me to later tell him that I was more interested in someone else. But if I offered to pay for just my share, wouldn't that be a little cold? And it would definitely be sending the wrong message if I paid for both of us...

Fortunately, Broker solved the problem for me. He got a little anxious, so he texted after a day and a half of non-response from me. He asked if I wanted to go out again sometime. This was my big chance to date on my own terms! I responded:

"That'd be fun! I'm crazy busy with work right now, but I could spare a few hours away! I'm free Sunday afternoon - wanna go for a walk?"

That's right, a walk. Nobody would have to pay, it provides great opportunity for conversation, and is not nearly as intense. Brilliant.

So we met for our walk on Sunday. He picked the location and we ended up walking through a neighbourhood in the city that I hadn't yet explored. It's a beautiful area with huge houses (going for about $5 million each) and nice walking paths, etc. It was a nice walk. We talked, we laughed... we were silent sometimes, but it wasn't awkward. We found a park bench facing some tennis courts and we sat and watched the tennis players for about an hour. When I had to go, he offered to walk me back to my car. I declined (I'm still not very good at letting go of my Strong, Capable Woman in order to allow a man to take care of me).

On our first date when it was time to go, I went in for a hug at the end. This time, I decided to let him call the shots. He stood there awkwardly for just a little too long, so I smiled, said goodbye and walked away.

I think that right there is the main problem. Broker's just fine, really. He's nice, he's smart, he makes me laugh, he's relatively attractive... but I'm pretty sure I could walk all over him. If we got into a relationship, I have a feeling he would let me boss him around. And I'm just not sure that's the kind of relationship I want to be in. I mean, it may have worked for Buttercup at first, getting Westley to polish her horse's saddle and fetch her pitchers, but as soon as Westley became a pirate, it was the back of the hand if she spoke out of turn.

So here I am again, not really into Broker, not really feeling like Gilbert's into me, trying to find time to email The Comedian but not really feeling very excited about any of it. Add to all that the three hour conversation I had with my ex the other day... I think it's safe to say I'm just plain spent.

Maybe I'll sit back for a while and just let things happen. If there are men out there who really want me, I'm sure they're more than capable of putting in a little effort...

Don't Drink and Date

So I just had a lovely 20-minute walk, 'neath ominous but self-contained rain clouds, trying to figure out how I felt about the date I just had with Broker. I weighed the pros and cons and tried to imagine what sort of blog I would write when I got home, when all of a sudden it hit me: I was humming. Billy Joel: My Life. Excellent tune.

So I guess the humming speaks for itself. I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't really looking forward to this date. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been so pessimistic. It really wasn't so bad. In fact, I think I might have enjoyed myself. One thing I've learned, though, about myself and the world of dating:

Never, never ever go out for DRINKS.

Bad idea. If it's a horrible date I suppose it's okay, because you can make up an excuse and leave after one beer. But if you're even having a sort of okay time, even if you drink at a normal speed, you'll have to order a second drink before you know it. I had two pints tonight. Maybe it was my skimpy dinner, but I really shouldn't even be typing right now. My hands feel all out of control and I can still taste the beer. I'm not drunk, but I'm certainly tipsy.

Don't make fun - I'm little.

So the date went well. Broker was cute. About six feet tall, nice eyes, brown hair... really nice smile. He was totally shy, but that was kind of cute too. Cute, but it came with its challenges. It was clear that, until he felt comfortable with me, I would have to create most of the conversation. Fortunately I was able to step up like a pro, and he warmed up in no time. We talked and laughed and (I think) enjoyed each other.

We are very different. He likes math and business and technology. He's an introvert to the max. He kept talking about all the times he has gone and will be going drinking recently. (Interesting sidenote: I mentioned that, although I like drinking, I'm not really the kind of person who enjoys getting trashed. Moments later, he mentioned that this month was an anomaly as far as drinking is concerned, and he's usually very reserved. Hmmm...)

All in all, I think I had a good evening. I think if he were the only man in my life, I would definitely go on a second date with him. As it is, I think I'll see how things go with Gilbert once he gets back to Canada (in five days!) and go from there. That is, assuming Broker even wants to see me again...

As much as The Site kind of demands it, I'm not a big fan of dating more than one person at a time. Is that going to be a problem later, do you think?

Catch and Release

I'm not crazy.

I'm not crazy, but I am totally weird. I don't know how normal people do it, being all casual about relationships. I'm not casual. I pretend to be casual, I tell my friends I'm casual, but I'm not casual. I stress and I worry and I ponder and I reflect and every little thing that happens means something big. It's a constant effort to pretend I'm happy to just go with the flow. I hate when relationships aren't defined. When they're not defined, they can slip away at any second. I'm afraid of that.

Is this too honest?

I told my friends last night that I wasn't very stressed about the fact that Gilbert hasn't emailed me in a little over a week. I explained it by saying that I hadn't even met him yet - only a crazy person (or someone very very weird) would obsess over a guy she hasn't even met yet. And, to my credit, I really don't think I'm obsessing. But that's the only truth in what I shared with my friends last night.

For the record, I didn't lie intentionally. I think I just told them what I wanted to believe about myself. The truth is, though, I do think about it. Every day that goes by without an email from him makes me a little disappointed. As it gets further and further away from his last email, I lose a little more hope. I try to resign myself to the fact that I must have said something wrong or shown too much of my personality too soon and he's written me off. I tell myself that's okay and that there are other fish in the sea. I remind myself that I have a date with one such fish. Tomorrow.

Go fishing, girl. Forget this guy.

But I think he's pretty great, and I don't really want to forget him. So I was very pleased, more than I'd like to admit, when I checked my email today and found the following message from Gilbert:

;) thinking about ya, just don't have the time to thumb out an email yet.

That's all I needed. I'm good now. Crazy? No, not crazy... definitely weird, though...

Futile Attraction

I've forgotten what it's like to have a crush. I don't know if I crush the same way every woman crushes or if I go a little overboard, but I have a feeling I'm pretty hardcore. Go big or go home, right? Right. I think I have a crush on Gilbert. In the past week I have been guilty of all of the following:

• He told me what neighbourhood he lives in. I google mapped it and calculated how long it would take to get there from my house.
• I find every word he writes adorable. He told me that he bought running shoes the other day and it made me sigh like a little girl. I don't even run.
• I showed his profile to my mom. For the record, she thinks he's very special.
• I had a daydream yesterday wherein he came back from the Czech Republic and before he even had a chance to tell me he was home, we ran into each other at a pub. He was even hotter in person.

He was supposed to come back to Canada this past Friday. A few days before the fateful day, he emailed to say that his return had been delayed. He won't be coming home until June 8. I'm not going to lie, I'm a little frustrated. I just want to meet him already! I don't like growing closer and closer to someone I haven't met in person.

For the record, I have good reason for this. About five years ago, I met a guy online. Through myspace, actually, which was very uncharacteristic of me, but he was creative and interesting and totally hot. So we started emailing each other - a two or three pager every single day for months. We spoke on skype a few times and he had a very normal sounding voice. We talked for hours and hours and I loved it. He made me laugh. He got me.

We finally agreed that we should meet. He took a train all the way from New York City and I met him at the train station. The moment I saw him in person, though, all my hopes of a whirlwind romance were crushed. I just wasn't attracted to him. He looked exactly like he did in his pictures, but there was something in the way that he stood or carried himself that I just didn't like. We spent the next ten days together in complete agony. It was horrible.

I need to be attracted to the man with whom I will share my life. This may sound superficial, but it's true. And yes, there have been guys who became more attractive to me as I got to know their personalities, and yes, I believe attraction can grow; but I really do think that, for the most part, you can pretty much tell right away. It's either there or it's not.

So all this to say that I want to meet Gilbert because I want to see if I'm actually attracted to him. And if I'm not, I don't want to waste any more time. I suppose I could find in him a good friend, but in all honesty, I'm not in the market for any more male friends. The ones I have are enough. It may seem cold, but it's the truth.

In other news, Broker and I are most likely meeting this coming Thursday. Drinks: time and place to be determined. Every email I get from him makes me a little less interested in him, which is unfortunate. Maybe it's just that I'm becoming more and more interested in Gilbert? I don't think it's only that. Broker seems to be hungover a lot. I enjoy a drink just as much as the next person, but I'm not really into habitual hangovers. I'm getting too old for that shit.

Also, there's a new guy. A comedian. He's funny and cool and I think I'd probably enjoy going out with him, but I'm not feeling there's much by way of commonalities between us that would make things work in the long run. At any rate, I'm enjoying talking to him for the time being. And he said the other day that receiving an email from me makes him smile. I liked that.

So the journey continues. I'm trying to keep my eggs in many baskets, but it's hard when one of the baskets seems so much nicer than the rest...

Let's Pwn Those Newbs!

So if you haven't guessed by the huge gap between this entry and the last, things have slowed down a little. After messing things up with Frenchie, and after the catastrophic Security Guard date, I decided to step back and reconsider my approach. I changed my profile a bit. I took out some content and added some pictures. I remarketed myself. I relearned to boil an egg... and slowly but surely, things started to happen. Guys who I actually found attractive began to email me. Two, in fact, have particularly caught my interest, and I've been emailing them both for a couple weeks now. Allow me to introduce you:

First, let's meet Gilbert. That's not his name, that's his lizard's name (or at least it was until he found out the lizard was a girl... then he changed it to Gilberta). His first message to me was very straightforward. In my profile I mention one of my favourite places to walk, so he messaged me, said that he lives near there, and suggested we go for a walk sometime. This caught me off guard a little - I've gotten pretty used to the unwritten rules of The Site, and one of them is that you email each other a bit first before you agree to meet in person. But I thought about it, and decided that it's just as much a crap shoot either way, and I had nothing to lose by going for it. So with a witty reply email, I agreed that a walk would be a great idea.

Problem is, he's in the Czech. That's right, the Czech Republic. He's there on business. Turns out he'll be there until May 28, so we've ended up having quite a bit of time to get to know each other pre-date. His emails are great. We seem to share a lot of the same interests, and he has mentioned that he plays the guitar, which we all know is a big bonus for me. And for the record, he has put a handful of pictures up on his profile, and he looks totally cute. So that's pretty exciting. I look forward to seeing where this'll go...

The second e-man, for the purposes of this blog, will be dubbed Broker. He's not actually an insurance broker, but he does work for an insurance company, and I just think that'd be a pretty cool name. Maybe I'll name my first son Broker. It sounds solid.

So Broker was a bit of a hard nut to crack. He did seem interested at first, but he was kind of shy. He could carry a conversation enough to keep it going - he would ask at least a couple questions per email - but his questions were always rather dull and uninspiring. At least, they didn't make me excited to talk to him. It almost got to the point where I didn't want to bother anymore, but I guess that's the point when you can pull out all the stops and allow magic to happen.

I asked him to tell me a story; one that would teach me something about the person that he is. I know it's kind of an unfair question - it's pretty tough to summarize your whole persona into one anecdote - but I asked it of him anyway. And he responded. He responded well. He told me a story about a time when he borrowed his parents' car in university and the plates got stolen. It wasn't so much the story that impressed me as it was the fact that he stepped up. And for some reason, after that story email, his whole demeanor changed. He was a bit more confident, a bit more warm, a bit more real. I liked it.

So he asked for a story back, and that's when I realized what a difficult task it was that I had given him. I finally settled on a story about the first canoe trip I ever went on. It was long (I'm sure you've all figured out by now that I can be rather long-winded), but he seemed to like it. At least, he liked it enough to ask me out! I got an email from him tonight, asking if I'd be interested in going out for a drink or something. For a guy who lists "shy" on his profile as one of his characteristics, I'm kind of flattered, impressed and excited that he's wanting to pursue me. I will respond tonight in the affirmative, we'll choose a day for the date, and I'll keep you posted.

There's also another guy, but I'm not so sure about him. Let's call him Face: I made the first contact because I thought he was hot in his pictures. Shameless, I know. But he also seemed pretty cool, and he mentioned a couple things in his profile that resonated with me. So I sent him an email. Thing is, he spells the word "through" like "threw," and the word "know" like "no." Now for the record, I am totally happy to befriend poor spellers. I ignore the spelling mistakes of my friends (for the most part) and certainly don't let them change my opinion of them. But I'm really having a hard time getting past it in this one guy. He also spelled "sporadic" wrong, but really, who spells "sporadic" on a regular basis? He can't really be blamed for that. I don't know why it's bugging me so much. I made up a story in the shower this morning about what it would be like if we ended up dating, and how he would react if I made up a song to remind him how to spell the word "through." Then, of course, I proceeded to make up the song. It's pretty good, actually. Maybe I'll use it in my English class...

After rereading that last paragraph, I'm really not all that shocked that I'm still single. Oh gosh...

So anyway, that's what's going on. Those are the newbies: Gilbert, Broker, and Face. I promise, I'll write far more frequently now that I've got some fodder. Maybe even sooner than you think, if all goes well!

French Horse Calls and Other Quandaries

Many of you have been asking about Frenchie. "He seemed so good!" you scold, "What's wrong with you? Why'd you let him go???" I think the answer to that question, when I really look at it, can be summed up in one word. Well one sound, really: Neigh.

I keep replaying that second date in my head, and I think I've isolated the exact moment that might have been the beginning of the end. We were at the comedy club, watching an improv battle. Each team would perform, and the audience was required to rate them on a scale of 1-5. This rating was indicated by applause.

After one specific skit, the emcee came up to learn our rating. "Was it a one???" he prompted, and was met with dead silence. "Was it a two???" - again, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. "Was it a three???" - silence. Silence, that is, but for the voice of my date... neighing. It was more of a whinny, really, but definitely a horse imitation, and definitely all shades of awkward. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't really even make sense of what had just happened. Who neighs? Why would you even do that??

My friends have since asked me, in an attempt to explain the neigh, if the subject matter of the skit was perhaps horse-related. It's possible. I know there was one skit that was supposed to be about horses, but it kind of went in another direction. Regardless, the neigh was the first moment where I found Frenchie unattractive. In retrospect, I truly do believe it was all downhill from there.

So why do I bring him up again? That date was weeks ago, and I haven't heard from him since. I figured he must have picked up on my slight change in tone and took it as a sign that I should no longer be pursued. Besides, he moved to Dryden two days later, and it's completely understandable that he might not want to keep up via email all through the summer.

All of this reasoning was so solid, you can imagine my surprise when I checked my email this morning to find a little something from Dryden. That's right, Frenchie has emailed me. Nothing extravagant, just two questions:

1) How are you doing?
2) Are you still eating one banana per day?

I've gotta hand it to him - the man knows what he's doing. If he had sent me a three-pager, as he was once accustomed to doing, I probably would have freaked out. But this? This is smooth and non-threatening. This is artful.

So now what do I do? The man's away until October. Do I really want to keep in contact with him all summer, not having any idea whether or not I'm actually attracted to him?

Oh, this would be so much simpler if he'd just left me with the neigh...

How to Boil an Egg

I googled how to boil an egg today. I felt like such a turd doing it, but I'm only just starting to eat eggs and have never had the need to boil one in the past. I'm perfectly capable of boiling water, but eggs are a whole other story and I wanted to do this thing right. So I found a link through google and to my surprise, it's not such a stupid question after all. Apparently many people have raised the same query, wanting the deliciousness of a hard boiled egg without the annoyance of the green/grey discolouration. Everyone knows how to boil an egg, right? Well maybe we all need to re-learn...

I'm thinking I need a new marketing strategy. I'm in my fourth month of Site exploration and still have yet to meet someone I find truly intriguing. It's not that everyone on The Site is hideous or socially inept. There have been a few guys whose profiles prolonged my gaze, but apparently I'm not what they're looking for. I have emailed and winked actively and courageously with no response. They're just not interested...

Am I aiming out of my league? Do the guys that I find attractive want women who are more attractive than me? I pray that's not the case. I'm really hoping I'm just selling myself improperly. Because if it's just a matter of re-learning how to boil an egg, perhaps there's still hope.

So I call out to you, my readers, my friends. Do you know the secret? What is it that men really want? What is it in a girl's profile that will make a guy take a second look? Do I need pictures of myself in a bikini? At a sports event? I'm not sure I'll be able to make either of those happen, but I'm sure there's something I could do to spice things up a bit. If you know me well, what are my best traits? What should I emphasize (or de-emphasize, for that matter)?

I was thinking of using my writing skills to my advantage. Maybe write my profile in the form of a movie trailer or book blurb: "She was just an ordinary girl, living out her days in the buzzing metropolis of Toronto; until one day, everything changed..." Except I can never really settle on what my blurb would be about. "In a world where singleness was a disease..." Hmmm...

Little help?

Never Mess With the System.

I've been going on so many dates these days, it's hard to keep track of them all. Beyond that, it's next to impossible to keep track of what I wear on them all. This may seem like a silly thing to think about, but it would be brutal if I wore the same outfit with the same guy on two consecutive outings.

So I've come up with a system. Green shirt and gold jewellery for date one, leather jacket, purple scarf and silver earrings for date two. So far it seems to be working. Thing is, I messed with the system tonight. I have a feeling that choice was the beginning of the end...

Dressed in my second date outfit, I headed out for my first date with The Security Guard. We met at the movie theatre so we could get our tickets before we grabbed coffee. After a brief, awkward introduction, he went to one of the ticket machines. I didn't know whether to stand back and let him pay, and he wasn't indicating one way or another. I'm not one to assume, so I went to my own machine and got my own ticket.

Then we headed over to Tim Horton's. On the way there we passed a small group of men who were street preaching. The Security Guard whispered a couple insults under his breath as we walked by. Once in Timmy's, my evening companion started to tell me stories about his job and about how he gets to meet many famous people and wear a bulletproof vest. He then started making very loud comments about the service at Tim Horton's and how he believed they should be working faster.

A man approached us with a sign that said, "I'm deaf. Please spare some change." The Security Guard looked at the man and replied, "I can't read!" and then laughed boisterously.

We spent the next hour talking about his job and his family... and sports. I tried to supply some information about myself, but gave up rather quickly - I was taught that interrupting people is rude. Besides, whenever I did get a word in, he would nod or say "yeah" and then carry on with whatever he was talking about. Apparently I'm just not all that interesting or something.

Thank goodness we decided to watch a movie. The only painful part of that experience was the previews, when he would lean over and trash every movie I thought seemed interesting.

He sings when there's silence. Not just humming, full out singing with words.

After the movie ended (and after I waited for him to go to the bathroom) I began planning my escape. I've already used "I have to donate blood in the morning" on a different first date and it certainly got the point across, but I don't like to lie. (For the record, I really did have to donate blood after that other date... I still admit it was a pretty lame excuse). Fortunately I didn't need to trouble myself with an excuse. I asked, "So can you get to the subway through this building?" and he led me right there.

We got on the train. I sat down. There was a seat right next to me, but he chose to stand above me instead. Every once in a while he would make a comment, but the subway was loud and I'm pretty hard of hearing as it is, so I had to keep asking him to repeat himself. It was awkward.

His stop came first, he said goodbye, lingering a bit too long in order to spit out something about how he'd call me, and then he was gone. The huge sigh that escaped from my body as those subway doors closed made me realize just how happy I was to be alone.

I think I need to remind myself of that more often. Alone really isn't so bad. At least, it could be worse - I could be stuck with a Security Guard who can't read.

Friday Fiasco

In my last blog I promised to regale you with all the details of my Thursday date with Frenchie. Well, I lied. On Tuesday I got an email from The Architect saying that he needed to cancel our Friday date - he met someone. I notified Frenchie of my new opening on Friday and we agreed to reschedule in favour of more time.

So I just got home from my Friday with Frenchie. Dinner and a show... two shows, actually.

We met on a street corner at 6:30. He said I looked nice, and complimented me on my jacket. I said I was cold, so he offered me his toque (he called it a beanie). I declined (in fear of hat head). We walked around the neighbourhood for a while, trying to find somewhere to eat. We finally settled on a really nice Greek place neither of us had been to. He got the roasted quail and I had the spinach- and feta-stuffed chicken. Delicious. He taught me about science and we compared Les Miserables, French verses English.

He paid.

Then we carried on to a comedy club to catch some improv. It was pretty hilarious. So hilarious, in fact, that we decided to stay for another show.

We had 45 minutes between the first and second performance so we walked around for a bit. We found a little candy store and he asked me to pick out my favourite candy. I picked a black licorice cigar - I could kind of sense he was going to buy it for me so I went for 45 cents instead of the dollars and dollars a bag of Jelly Bellys would have cost. I was right. He bought me the cigar. Then we went back for the second show. Not as funny as the first, but still enjoyable.

After the show, he asked what was next. It was about 11:00pm by this point, and I was getting tired. I said it was home time. So we walked to the subway station. He said something about the fact that I'm always smiling. I said that people tell me I smile a lot, but it doesn't feel like I do: "I'm pretty regular, I think... just like everybody else." He did that pensive pause again and said, "You are definitely not like everybody else."

And that's when I started to freak out.

At least, I think it was then. It could have been sometime between the first and second show. But all of a sudden I didn't know how I felt about this guy, and was pretty sure I wasn't head over heels, and really just wanted to get away. I didn't want to look at him because if I did I knew I'd pretend to be googly-eyed and into him and I didn't want to do that. And I didn't have anything to say. No conversation starters - since when does that happen????

We got on the subway and rode a few stops together before we had to part ways. He spoke as though we would be keeping in contact all summer. He asked me if I needed him to see me home. I said that I thought I'd be okay on my own. We got to my stop and he stood to give me a hug. We "have a nice summer"-ed and I was gone.

Yeah, I totally freaked out.

I was into this guy at one point, right? I know I was before I met him. His emails were gold. And there's no denying that he's a great guy - funny, intelligent, cultured, attractive... But for some reason something inside of me changed and I got weird. Again.

Is it just that I haven't found the right guy yet? Will I know when I do? Or will I get up to or around the second date with every amazing guy I meet and then hightail it out of there?

At least there's still The Security Guard. I meet him tomorrow. Stay tuned...

Life, Death and the French

I caved a bit yesterday and made a move on Frenchie. He wasn't asking me out and I knew that April 11 was quickly approaching (the day he leaves for a six-month stint in Dryden) and I was not okay with the idea of communicating all summer with a man I've never met. So yesterday I sent him an email saying that we should probably meet before he goes, and giving him my number. He called me last night, at around 10:00.

Good talk. Talked for about two hours. He had a cute French accent, was just sarcastic enough to keep me on my toes, and seemed to have intelligent opinions about things. And he made me laugh. I liked that. I'm not going to say it wasn't a little awkward at times, but can you really expect a first-time phone conversation to be completely natural? We finished the conversation by making plans to meet each other.

Skip to today.

I woke up, hung some stained glass in my windows (I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am about that), installed a toilet paper holder in my bathroom (used a drill and everything!) and then Frenchie called. Turns out he had plans after 5:00 today, so it was to be a day date. A walk through Mount Pleasant Cemetery.

We met outside the subway station and awkwardly greeted each other. We both went for a handshake, but at different times, while the other was going for a hug. Things, I find, are less awkward when you state them, so I was glad when Frenchie said, "Maybe a hug?"

It was a nice hug.

We made our way to the cemetery, and it was very clear that he expected me to know where I was going. I've been to this place a handful of times, but I'm certainly no expert. So it was with a little apprehension that I led us down a path in search of "The Enchanted Forest" that a good friend had once introduced me to. I found it. It was still enchanted.

Conversation was good and natural, and he asked me almost as many questions as I asked him. He kept making comments about things we could do on future dates, or things he could teach me, or things I could teach him. Maybe he likes me? I also noticed, for the record, that whenever we hit a spot in the path that was only wide enough for one, he would always stop and let me go first. Very sweet.

We came back out of The Enchanted Forest and walked around the cemetery for a while. Many cars were driving through the cemetery, and he insisted that I walk on the inside because, as he said, "It's important that if a car comes, it gets me instead of you." That's two points for Frenchie. Well played. We talked about family and friends and work and life and death (which is only strange if you forget that we were walking through a cemetery). We quoted the sound of music... pretty cheesy, but it made me giddy in a little girl way. He said he'd take care of me (he's 32, going on 33, but I'm just a naive little 27-year old - if you don't know SoM, just ignore the last bit of this paragraph).

I mentioned that I was thirsty and said, "I bet we could find a good place to get a drink on Yonge." He countered that he bet we couldn't, and then said that whoever lost the bet had to pay for the drinks (which is rather hard to do if there are no drinks to be payed for). Very clever, Frenchie. Three points, going strong. We found a Starbucks and he bought me a Tazo Passion Tea Lemonade. It was delicious.

We sat in large comfy chairs that he called "the storytime chairs" and we told each other stories and asked each other questions. I finished my drink in the first five minutes, while he sipped his green tea throughout the whole conversation. He offered to buy me another, but I graciously declined.

He has nice brown eyes and just a little bit of beard stubble.

We saw a Vespa drive by and I said that I wanted one. He was silent, so I continued with something lame like, "I think I could pull it off." He looked at me, called me by name and said, "I think a girl like you would look good driving pretty much anything."

Sigh...

So we finished our drinks and he walked me back to my car. I offered to drive him to a library so he could return a movie he had signed out, and he accepted. We listened to Metric. I think he was unimpressed by the fact that it was a burned CD. I was a little ashamed.

He said that he would love to have a break from studying and packing this week if I was free. Problem is, I've got plans each weekday evening from about 7:30-on, Friday I'm going out with The Architect, and Saturday I'm going out with The Security Guard. I didn't tell him about the other dates (am I supposed to do that?) but I told him an outline of my schedule and he said he'd be happy to come visit on Thursday, even if just for a few hours between work and my evening commitment.

So I've got a second date with Frenchie, I guess. Thursday. Mark your calendars, check back later. I promise, I'll keep you posted.

The Men

So I've got to say, if a woman really wants to be successful in this online dating thing, I think she would be wise to hire a personal assistant. Writing and responding to emails, organizing dates, keeping names straight... that right there is a full-time job.

As of right now, I've got four and a half men in my life. The half is a half because the jury's still out on whether he thinks I'm wonderful or just wants to be friends. I wish he'd make up his mind already and either fall in love with me or move along. I don't have time for this halfway business. But anyway, he's in and out, so he must be introduced. Let's call him... Skater... in honour of our first date. (Just to clear up any confusion, we went ice skating - he didn't teach me how to ollie).

Then there's The Illustrator. We went on a date a couple weeks ago. He's just barely keeping in contact enough for me to feel like I can't cut him loose, but he's not really working for it either. Maybe he's also a half. Maybe three quarters? I enjoyed the date for the most part, other than the fact that he talked about himself the whole time. Not even a "...and how about you?" For the record, guys, we women are looking for men who are interested in us - that includes the things we have to say.

Next comes The Architect. He seems alright for the most part. Told a joke about sex in his very first email which was a bit of a turn-off for me (it's really unfortunate how fine a line there is between charming and repulsive) but I chose to look past it and see if he had more to him. He asked me out in an email yesterday. Plans aren't solid yet, but stay tuned...

Then there's The Security Guard. This guy is eager, it's clear, but he also has absolutely no idea how to carry on a conversation. The Site has an IM function that we've been using recently, and at some moments it's been just plain painful. I'm hoping things will be much more natural in person.

And finally, my favourite thus far, Frenchie (so named because he is... French, that is). I like him. He's intelligent, he's witty, he's got a good job, he makes me laugh... and he informed me tonight that he shouldn't have come on to me so strongly because he's leaving in a matter of weeks and will be gone the whole summer.

I don't really know what to do with this information. Is it all just a lie to get out of communication with me? I've been wrong about this in the past, but I'm willing to bet this guy isn't trying to back out. So do I just stop talking to him because the timing is wrong? Do we continue to email? That can be nothing but trouble - any two people can fall in love with each other's words. I guess maybe we need to meet before he leaves? But I've mentioned in previous blogs my desire to have the man initiate the first meeting...

Oh, golly... See??? If I had a personal assistant, my people could contact his people and just set something up. Maybe a nice light lunch. As it is, I have to sit here waiting for him to ask me out whilst juggling all these other guys whose names I still can't keep straight.

Yup, it's a hard life out there in the dating world. Certainly not for the faint of heart...

Gonads and Gender Roles

It's interesting (and kind of adorable) how scared men are to ask a woman out. I think it's funny, though, that this fear extends into the world of online dating. I mean, here we are, all on this site, with the common goal of finding a partner. Asking someone out is kind of a required step.

The Security Guard finally asked me out last night. We've been talking for a few weeks now. I have to say, he's not the greatest communicator, but he hasn't done anything to scare me away yet, so in the spirit of openness I'm still on board. It was funny the way he did it though. At the end of another of his mediocre emails he wrote the following:

"So I was wondering if you would be cool getting together sometime, maybe grab dinner and/or drinks or catch a movie or whatever, just something to get to know each other better... anyways, no pressure but just a thought."

I wonder if there's any way we could make it easier on these guys. Maybe we could create a standard form, or even have a "date request" button so they don't have to go through the agony of suggesting dinner/drinks/movie without sounding lame. I think it's a good idea - I might pitch it to The Site.

And then there are the guys who don't even have the awkward bravery of The Security Guard. Take Frenchie, for example. We've been talking for a couple weeks and it's wonderful. We joke, we flirt (a bit), and we have many common interests to discuss. But sooner or later we're going to run out of email fodder. A date, or at least a phone conversation, is very necessary to ensure that this relationship doesn't fizzle. Frenchie will tease about whisking me away to Salzburg (which he can totally do - he happens to be a pilot) but he doesn't even consider asking me to the weekend film festival that we've been recently discussing.

For the record, I would totally go.

Which brings me to my final point of contention in online dating (well, at least as far as this blog is concerned): I could do the asking. I'm certainly capable, and I've got the guts. Thing is, I've noticed that the men on these sites seem to feel a little emasculated when a woman grabs the reins. If a woman is too bold, the man feels like his role has been taken away. This is silly. Silly, but I suppose I kind of get it...

Because, in all honesty, I really want to be pursued. In my sordid past I have convinced far too many men to be interested in me. I have sought them out, made it easy for them, and finally, once I have virtually forced them to get to know me, they have realized that I'm pretty alright. I don't want to do that again. I want a man who sees my value from the start. I want a man who wants me, and is willing to go through a little humiliation (or at least an awkward first date proposition) to get me. I want to be worth the work.

And So It Began...

Let me just lay it all out there from the start. I'm 27. I'm a woman. I'm single. This last truth and the journey surrounding it is the real reason this blog came to be. You see, my married friends assure me that my singleness is not a disease. In fact, they have come up with the greatest way of justifying their efforts towards finding me a man:

"If you were a good teacher but weren't teaching, that would be an injustice. You're a good lover - we need to see you loving."

And it's true, I am a good lover. I have my flaws, but I also have a lot to bring to the table. Which is why, perhaps, the marrieds seem to be holding on to this mission; maybe, just maybe, a mate for this girl is an attainable prospect.

Their recent attempt is both flattering and humbling. I have become their sponsor child. I will become an active member of an online dating site for six months and they will pay for it. They seem to be fairly certain that Mr. Right is not only handsome and charming, but also relatively computer savvy.

I've been on The Site for two full months now, meeting more men than I know what to do with and going on more dates than I ever thought possible. It's been quite an adventure so far, but there are a few problems.

First, as the marrieds are paying for this adventure, naturally they expect a report every once in a while regarding my progress. This would be fine, but they never seem to ask me at the same time, resulting in about five re-tellings of each date that I experience. As much as I love to talk about my adventures (and, admittedly, equally, to hear my own voice), it gets a little tedious on or around recount number four.

Second, it's not just my sponsors who take joy in the tales of my sordid love life. I have close friends all over the country, marrieds and singles, with whom I want to share my life.

Solution: BLOG.

I've never had an official blog before, but what better reason to start? So here's the deal. I will keep a blog, updating it as often as my schedule allows, highlighting the ups and downs of this quest for a mate. For the sake of the privacy of those I mention, I'll be making up the name of the dating web site (The Site) as well as other relevant names such as those of my suitors.

I hope this blog will serve to enrich your life in some way. If you count yourself among the marrieds, perhaps you can live vicariously through me (and please feel free, by the way, to tell me often that I should cherish this time of carefree singleness). If you count yourself among the singles, perhaps you will find yourself relating to some of my tales. You may even have a better story to share. Or maybe you'll read just to know that you're not alone; because sometimes we all need to be reminded of that.

So here it is, my first blog. Hopefully in these entries it will become clear how one woman can find love: TOGETHER.