Like a prayer

My relationship with God is complicated. Being gay and growing up in a catholic country our relationship has always been let's just say, sort of frazzled. I am what you would call a lazy atheist. One that only believes in a higher power,  just in case but who is a staunch believer that religion is problematic.

So when I started a conversation with a very handsome guy on okay-cupid who's profile said very religious I thread lightly.  However, I still set up a date for a drink or a meet up as he later on informed me. Not a date.

It was halfway through our first drink that he decided to inform me that he was a priest. The kind that can date, be gay and fuck he clarified. Who knew!! That is when I ordered my second drink. A strong one.

We then continue to chat. For a good hour. About everything from my views on religion, lady gaga and his dog. He was charming, warm and very open to other points of view. I guess you have to when you have people revealing their deepest secrets to you all the time.

We decided to get in touch later on in the week and set up an actual date for him. A second date for me.

After a couple of texts a week passed and we met at a nice restaurant. We ordered a bottle of red and dinner. Chemistry was undeniable. Good taste in movies, lover of art, could cook and  had a very cute smile. Did this mean I should start praying?

After the conversation took a heavy turn, I decided we should moved locations to a tequila bar where jazz was playing. The flirting got heavy and there might have been some PDA, priesty display of affection. After kissing while waiting for our respective Ubers we decided to call it a night but talked about going to the movies.

Five minutes later I got a text. "I had such a nice time. There is something about you. You have a twinkle in your eye. Let's do this again". Good Lord, that was fast.

Two texts and a cancelation later. I never hear from him again. There goes my twinkle.

Apparently even priest ghost nowadays

But I am not surprised, after all he is in an open relationship with God.

I however prayed that week. "In the name of the father, the son and the holy ghosted."

The 90s "RomCom" Syndrome

While nursing a cold and watching seven consecutive hours of the Mindy Project on Netflix I decided to come out of my blogging hiatus. Let's just say the last two years of dating have been everything but boring.

Being in my late 30s I grew up watching the best of Meg Ryan, the beginning of Julia Roberts annoying persona and everything Sandra Bullock. Sadly. In the ol' days there was nothing close to a gay romantic comedy as all the gay themed movies involved sketchy sex, dying or sad coming out stories.

So these ladies where basically all I had.

Enter Man-Bun. Handsome. Assertive. Intense.

On our first convo on the apps he immediately insisted that we had to meet ASAP after I mentioned my pro-monogamy views and semi romantic stand of dating. After a lot of insisting on his part, he asked me to go to his condo.

The condo that was spotless. Think showroom clean. Decorated in the style that I can only call Wall Street Chic with a side of Emo Liberace.

What followed was a very intense game of chicken as he decided to not really talk much and stare at me intensely while the local news played on his tv. Not going to lie, I was into it, that was until I was interrupted by eyebrows going up and down and him winking at me.

The staring continued for a couple of minutes until I stopped it by going for a kiss. He was pretty sexy after all and he was into it. I guess I lost the game of chicken after all. We chatted for a bit and then he said. "I am taking you for a date on Wednesday."

Cut to Wednesday. The date involved the worst sushi ever ordered on Uber eats. Wine that I brought.  and it was followed by a bizarre drive around the neighbourhood to find a bar and a phone call interruption from his friend. Who insisted to meet him in the middle of the street on the way to the bar to say hi. An insistence to which he comply to and got out of the car and left me waiting for five minutes while they had a catch up.

The chat at the bar was nice actually. Maybe it was the two beers I drank. We went back to his place and kissed some more. The make out session was interrupted when he stood up and went to the bathroom to get his tweezers which he used to take two hairs off my ears, 'cause you know, they were bothering him.

It was after we had sex that I realized that he got his romance ideas from 90s thrillers when he decided to fold all my clothes neatly in the bathroom while I took a shower.

Needless to say. After getting a glimpse into his Sleeping with the Enemy vibes, getting a very Single White Female energy from his texting, I decided to stop things before we went Fatal Attraction on me.

And they say romance is dead. I think they might be right...

Let's just...don't

I am all about the embracing the millennial joie de vivre and operate from a place of confidence but sometimes the "you do you" existential MO pushes it.

The following is a list of things you should not do/say on a first date. All based on personal experiences going on dates with an array of awful, interesting, fun and plain just crazy guys.

1) Do NOT disclose your sexual escapades after just one beer. There is nothing sexy about listening to someone tell you they once got a blow job in an alleyway down the street from the bar you are currently having a drink at.

2) Do NOT go silent five minutes into a date, space out and then go on a ten minute diatribe to apologize by disclosing you are a very anxious person that never sleeps and might need to take pills. That convo belongs to a pre-date conversation or a third date once you are comfortable with each other.

3a) Do NOT check your phone while on a date and get excited when you get a new match on Tinder.

3b) Do NOT swipe while your date goes to the bathroom and then try to hide it by saying you where checking some emails.

4) Do NOT be late for your date because you were at a Rupaul's Drag Race trivia night.

5) Do NOT start a half hour convo with the waiter and ask him about his career goals.

6) Do NOT add your date to all your social media until after you go on a fourth date. It makes for really awkward unfollows and blocking.

When in doubt just do not go on a date. Time is precious. If you are not feeling it sometimes is better to just do NOT do it

Unforgettable

After a month and a half of dating in the real world, or lack thereof, I caved and I am back to the online world. Although trying to date offline was an interesting experiment, it seems that the only way to get a date is through my phone.

So, operation swipe, is on. Three days of a lot of left swiping and I got to the end of Tinder. After running out of swipes and suffering a mild carpal tunnel, I have only 14 matches. Quality over quantity... right?

A couple monosyllabic conversations later and I am having good case of deja vu.

So, in a moment of weakness I decide to download Grindr.

It seems that a month off the apps is like five years in the dating app world because I was approached by the exact same guys that had approached me before I deleted the app. The same guys whose conversation went nowhere and who I never met. Apparently Gay Amnesia is a thing because none of them remember talking to me before.

The thing is. I never forget a face. A name yes. A face? Never.

Five Deja Vus in. I start chatting with another guy who I had already chatted before and who's gAy-DD (Gay Attention Deficit Disorder) had left me in mid conversation a couple of months before.

Apparently, the grass was greener on my turf this time as he was really chatty and actually kind of charming. After texting for a couple of days about everything from politics to food to music, he decided to ask me for a drink. He was great and charming on text so I say yes.

I am all about good vibes and chemistry but I have never heard of dating fang shui. Apparently it is a thing, as my date decided to change our seats not once but three times because he was not feeling the fang shui . The first time the table was too small, the second time seats were not comfy and the third time it was the lighting and the ice machine at the bar.

We ended up sitting at the bar. Where I am told that the bartender at this bar is a genius. He was actually very run of the mill and super cranky.

My date then decides to have what seems like a ten minute conversation about his drink with the bartender. Followed by another five minutes of looking at the bartender making his drink. So far, we haven't gone beyond small talk so I seek refuge in the menu.

Reluctant to order any food and not inspired by both the menu or the conversation. I am told by my date to order something. "Order food" he says. "You should order an app" he insists. Order taken.

After a clunky conversation about our careers. He decides to tell me that I look like a drug lord. I guess that's the equivalent of telling me I am a masculine or butch. Given the circumstances I take the compliment.

The food arrives and I am again told to eat. This time off his plate. He insists that I must eat some of the shrimps in the dish he ordered.  Then a long debate ensues about what one of the ingredients in the dish was. It was an olive but my date insisted it was fish delicately cut into a small circle. I insist it is an olive. He insists it is fish. I say olive. He asks the bartender. The bartender says dryly "It is an olive".

This was the highlight of the night.

Once the debate is done, I got to know a little more about my date as he goes full charming and tells me he is a lone wolf with not a lot of friends. He was working hard selling himself and I was working hard trying to find a way to go home. The check comes and I decide that I want to walk home but so does he.

I wish I could say this is when I ran away to seek refuge but things became evern more bizarre as my date went apeshit and started blabbing like 2 year old the moment he saw a dog on the street. He then gave me the saddest tour of the city when he pointed out all the places that he goes to, alone, by choice.

We say goodbye and I am left with high hopes of hitting my head and getting good case of gay amnesia.

Rasing the Bar

Going off the dating apps means that you need to make a extra effort to put yourself in a social situation where you could possible meet someone. Well, what better place than a bar. A gay bar.

Now, it is important to clarify that I am not one to go to a club or a gay bar.  Not beyond the once in a while occasion when my friends have a birthday or the bestie wants to go dancing or I am in the mood.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

First Attempt - Solo

One Saturday night I braved it up and went to the village's gay pub/club. But first I shower and re-iron one of my shirts. First impression are important, right?

Gussied up and ready to mingle I arrived. I make sure to first buy some Japanese liquid courage before I do my first walk through. What followed felt more like walking through my high school hallways and less me trying to find someone to connect with. Enter second beer.

After a couple of awkward glances and what seemed  like an almost conversation, I purchased my third beer. Less face it, liquid courage is a necessity for survival in these cases. Another walk through puts me in the awkward situation of seeing one of the guys I went on a date with months before. Yes, the guy next door who you want to stay behind that door. After an awkward mouthing of "how are yous?" I go to the bar to purchase my fourth and final beer.

Forty five minutes into my first attempt at going solo to a bar I decide to leave. Bloated, kinda drunk and dateless but proud that at least I tried.

#socialmediacleanse

Last week I decided to erase all my dating apps and go on a social media cleanse. The days of swiping are over. The rush of getting a match has been replaced by the excitement to prove myself that I can still find a date the old fashioned way.

So hold on to your hipster toques and inside scarves cause I am ready to engage the world beyond my iPhone's screen.

The Gay Christmas 

Depends who you ask. Pride is basically the gay Christmas. (for others it is halloween, the Tony Awards or any red carpet)

Pride started as march to protest for respect, for rights and acceptance. The years have passed. People now can get "gay married" and Pride is now a celebration brought to you by all our favourite brands.
I am not going to delve into the politics of Pride and what it means, no worries.

This year I decided to attend Pride, first time as a single man. I mean, what better way to access others "like" me than a party that celebrates people "like" me.

Well. Not so much.

Glittered beards and rainbows aside. The block party I joined was basically a high school dance attended  by 200 versions of what seemed like the same guy: "The shirtless muscled meat head douche". Like good mammals, they all hung out within their pack of other shirtless muscled meat heads and didn't relate to any one beyond their group. Mix that with a DJ that played music that could only be dance with what I call " Instagram Boomerang" moves and you have a recipe for ...not love.

The only three people that seemed interested in engaging any other humans were:  the nicest but terrible at math drink ticket seller, the guy that sold me a delicious mini "pride sausage" pizza and a crazy European lady that looked like a real housewive on E.

Thank God for my two friends.

It seems I will have to wait to the real Christmas to get a present.


F is for Flirting 

Part of my new approach to dating is to try to engage people in any situation that could lead me to a smile, conversation or exchanging of phone numbers.

So, it is time to un-dust my good ol' gaydar and put it to work.

This week I tried public transportation.

Armed with a big smile, one spray of cologne and a flirty attitude I took on my work route crowd.

Monday
I tried the "I am shy but interesting as I am obviously listening to a hilarious podcast and laughing out loud approach". Epic fail. All I got was dirty looks.

Tueday
I tried the "I am super smart and reading the New York times Editorial section approach". Mild fail.
No dirty looks. Not looks at all.

Wednesday
I tried the "I am wearing sunglasses and drinking an iced americano so don't talk to me cause I am to cool for school approach". Too cool for school indeed.

Thursday
I was running late so I guess I tried the "fuck i am going to be late to work approach". I got a mild sneer.

Friday
I tried a simple "smile" approach. Small victory. I got two smiles back.

I guess we all have to begin somewhere.

No-Ass Ark

Let's face it. After two catfishings, three ghostings and a whole lot of smart-asses, I have no other option but to build an ark. An ark where I will also like to put the silent-Bobs, the monosyllabic Joes and the tinder scrapbookers.

I have always found dating fascinating, both as a painful process we all decide to put ourselves through but also as a sociological experiment that pretty much reminds you how eff'd up we all are. The royal we, that is.

The reality is that dating is not an easy feat and when you add a layer of technology things become even less personal. I have been single and ready to mingle for almost a year now, and although the majority of my dating experiences have ranged from bizarre to entertaining I have also been reminded of the superficiality and vacuousness that comes with being gay. Cue rant.

In the non-scientific experiment that has been my dating life for the past year I have learned that most people are incapable of expressing what they want beyond having a frantic tumble and asking what you are into. Mind you, if you are a fuck and chuck kind of guy then online dating is where it's at.
That is if you are willing to navigate an array of weird interactions, unsolicited nudity, fake profiles and a whole lot of conversations that go nowhere.

It seems that collecting matches and woofs is the new version of self-love for some and expressing our distaste for some groups is also a way people like to connect with others.

This is why I refuse to engage in monosyllabic conversations with people that are looking to "connect" but are not willing to put the time or effort.

I refuse to sign in for an abs adoration culture (and believe me there is nothing wrong with being in great shape and having a gym abiding healthy lifestyle) but there is plenty more to life than a six pack.

I refuse to be put in a box by a swipe or a woof. I refuse to be judged by the way I look or where I come from.

I refuse to feel good because I have certain amount of matches.

I refuse to be anyone but myself.

For a group of people that has been marginalized, mistreated and abused over the years we tend to do the same with each other. We treat each other in such a superficial and disposable way. We all seem to be looking for the same, a companion, someone to talk to, a friend, someone to have sex with;  but the reality is that no one is willing to put the time and respect that it actually requires.

So here is to less swiping and more trying to meet people in an old fashioned way. In person. By connecting with each other. By engaging. By talking. By not putting each other in a box.

Charcuterie Bored

Sometimes if it's not meant to be, it's not meant to be.

Usually all the signals are right there in front of you but most of us choose to ignore them.

Signal #1: Not a texter. In the age of phone app dating you have to be okay with texting. A self professed caller might sound romantic but there is something about the early stages of dating awkwardness that texting takes away. Plus who talks to us on the phone beside our moms?

Signal #2: He cancels our first attempt to meet because it was Halloween. Apparently Halloween is still for some, the gay Christmas. Two months later he texts (this was a three text exchange by the way) to ask me if I am still single. We set another date. I cancel because I prefer to attend my work Christmas party instead. New year arrives. Third time is a charm, right?. We finally set a date. It is happening.

Signal #3: Your first date is just okay. First dates can range from scarring to awful to okay to pleasant to amazing. This one was just okay. The equivalent would be a Tim Horton's coffee. Not great but it does the job. Enough to have another one another time. Double double anyone?

Singal #4: On our second date the conversation although more fluid is slightly repetitious. He, although quite cute, is not what you would say a charmer. The goodbye kiss, well, let's just say that was enough for me to ask for a third date.

Signal #5: On the third date, at a bar, he decides to comment on the hockey game that was on one of the screens and stop talking. After an awkward "hey bud, do you want me to drink my beer at the bar so you can watch the game" convo he decides to join me back on our date. I decide to ask him for a fourth date, mostly in an attempt to Netflix and chill.

Signal #6: I make dinner (I am a good cook but this time I buy it and reheat it. This date is not worthy of my cooking skills). I buy fun snacks and a set up a charcuterie board. Yes, let's not forget I am gay and we kind of go all out on these things. He arrives empty handed. (insert sound effect here). Big no no. Like seriously.
 Then when I offer a nice chocolate for dessert he goes and eats it all without offering me any of it. He also eats a whole bowl of cashews. Who does that?

Signal #7: He gets more excited about Lady Gaga's super bowl half time show than anything we have talked about in the past three dates. When I attempt to kiss him. He stops after about 10 seconds. May I remind everyone this is THE FOURTH date.

In the last fifteen minutes of the date he finally comes out his shell. Playful and fun. Too little too late. A couple of texting attempts from him are met with a non-chalante not interested attitude from me.

I am bored.

Word of Mouth

6pm - After a couple of days of texting, the cute guy you've been chatting with finally asks you out. 

7:30pm - He makes a reservation for a nice restaurant near your condo for the next day at seven.

7:35pm - You feel a tiny pulsating pain in the corner of your lip.

7:37pm - You use your camera phone to see if you have anything on your lip. You find nothing. 

8:30pm - The pulsating pain comes back.You ignore it.

10:00pm- While brushing your teeth you discover what seems to be the beginning of a mouth pimple. You try to squeeze it in a moment of hysteria. You make it worse.

10:05pm  - You start thinking about cancelling your date. After all, a mouth pimple looks quite similar to a cold sore and who wants to see that on a first date.

10:07pm - After more squeezing. You decide to put some of your secret ointment that your mom brings from back home whenever she comes to visit.

10:30pm  - You put more ointment before bed, because, why not? The pimple is already there and it won't go anywhere. 

Next Day

7:00am - While working out you see your reflection in the mirror. There it is. A red spot in the corner of your mouth. You start practicing mouth movements to hide it. After realizing that you look stupid, you consider cancelling again.

8:00am In a desperate attempt to minimize the mouth pimple you do another squeeze. You make it worse. You put more ointment and reluctantly pick a nice outfit.You pack your lunch for work and also pack your ointment for further applications during the day.

9:30am You take a picture of your face. Send a text to your best friend. Ask how bad it is.

You best friend says "its not that terrible, stop touching it" You ask him if you should cancel. He says to just come clean to your date and  nonchalantly mention that your mouth pimple is not a cold sore.

10am You stare at yourself in the mirror at work until someone comes in the washroom.

10:30am You text another friend for a second opinion. She compliments your outfit. Disregards your pimple.

11:30am It takes everything in you to not squeeze that bugger when you go back to the bathroom.

1pm More ointment.

2pm You think of funny ways to mention a mouth pimple. They all sound awkward in your mind. 

3pm You consider wearing a turtleneck that covers half of your face. 

4pm More ointment.

5:30pm You make yourself a gin and tonic searching to forget about your pimple.

7:15pm You meet your date. Make a joke about how your mouth pimple is not a cold sore. Its very awkward.

7:16pm The date makes a joke about how after you have dessert you can both go together to the clinic and check your mouth herpes.

7:17pm You smile and realize that it is all going to be okay.

10:00pm You say goodbye to your date with a hug after two hours of chatting and laughing. 

10:05pm You walk home wondering if he will want a second date with you and your mouth pimple.

Next Day

3pm Your mouth pimple is gone and so is your date. He ghosted you. 

Everybody deserves a shot

The thing about dating via your phone is that you have to be ready to go on a date pretty much at any time. I always try to have a list of places to go in different parts of town just in case I ever have impromptu dates.

Good thing I do.

Sometimes when you least expect it one of the five conversations you have on the go in your apps actually turns out to be a winner. It suddenly goes from monosyllabic to clever banter to flirty emojis in a span of two hours and sooner than later you are sneaking out for a "convo" break at work.

Now, I am not one to go on impromptu dates but when an gentleman from down under gets all my jokes, I gotta ask him out for a drink and what better option than the local speakeasy.

After setting up a meeting point and realizing that I seem to have a thing for dates with guys with accents we go on our way to the bar. The bar is in a basement, it feels like something that you would see in New York. It's cool vibes meets a wall of booze.

Before we take a sit, a young Scottish bartender lets us know that we can only sit at the bar as there will be a speed dating event happening and all the other seats in the premises will be taken. I take this with a sign of relief. If my date goes terrible it wont be as awkward as what is about to happen.

The crowd starts to arrive and it is a mix of desperate and nervous. I am in confidence heaven. My date is chatty, charming and we seem to be hitting it off.

That is until the Scottish bartender interrupts us to chat about the random people he deals with every day. At first I am annoyed but then I get into it. This guy has stories for days and both me and my date seem to enjoy the break from you know, breaking the ice. Apparently the Scottish bartender thinks we are cool as he decides to give us a free round of tequila shots.

The speed dating on the other hand is not going well. A guy keeps coming to the bar to get refills of beer. The men are all standing by themselves awkwardly. The women are chatting in groups. Me and my date are laughing and sharing stories.

A new bartender arrives. Her name: Katrina. Another charmer. She does the best Mexican accent and apparently has lived in Australia. She decides to pour us a shot of whiskey. Which makes the Scottish bartender jealous and decides to join for another round of shots, so he "does not feel left out". I like this place.

Three shots and a couple of drinks after. I am still talking to my date. We have gone from getting to know each other to now making fun of each other. Judging by how no one from the speed dating left together. We have already won.

Scottish bartender tells us that we are soon going to be joined by a group of ballerinas and bellerinos (as he likes to call them) from the National Ballet of Canada. Just cause my date hadn't been random enough. This is when I learn that my date does ballet as a workout. Good to know.

An array of beautiful women and really tall sculpted men arrive.

Katrina brings me a beer and my date, a wine....That we did not order. Courtesy of the principal dancer from the National Ballet of Canada. What? He decides to join us for quick and awkward convo. Which is followed by me and my date exchanging funny glances and laughing.

After chatting with some of the other dancers and meeting someone I went to school with ten years ago and getting Katrina's phone number while still chatting with my date, we decided to call it a day. That's when the manager brings us another round of shots because "We have been there all night and we are fun."

My date is wasted. I am not. I walk him to the subway. We say goodbye.

I think I like impromptu dates.

It's all phoney

Who needs a matchmaker when you have a smart phone.

Our phones are now our gate to dating. Our own personal encyclopedia. Our shield from weirdos. Our wingman.

When dating through an app we can use our phones to hide. To be assholes. To pretend to be the best version of ourselves. We can be anyone. A blessing and a curse. A double edge sword.

I have been guilty of all of the above. I use the fact that I am not in front of my possible date as an opportunity to impress. I have been known to google obscure facts about Korea or rewrite a text four times in an effort to be super witty and impress whoever is on the other side. I also have at times not answer to a sweet message from someone that is not my type.

Let's be honest, Who doesn't love to be able to block the riff raff. Avoid those we don't like. We can't do this in real life but we can do it over the phone.

It is all sweet and dandy until you have to actually go on a date with someone and be yourself. Never a problem for me but certainly a problem for my first Tinder match. We are going to call him H.

H's Pre-Date Personality Over Text
Great pictures. Super cute. A fashionista who loves his family and likes to flirt. Very chatty. Clever at times but mostly sweet. Very into telling me how handsome I am and how much he wants to meet me.

H's Post-Text Personality During the Date
He is wearing jogging pants. Takes me to a coffee shop because "Why going for a drink at a bar? it's not like we are going to marry or something". Looks at his phone literally the whole time. When he is not looking at his phone he talks about his ex and how much he misses him. Gets teary. Goes to the bathroom three times.

When I ask him "Why did you make me come all this way for a date if you are not really into it?" He says "Because I wanted to meet you".

I miss my phone. I want to hide behind it.

Enter OkCupid Date with L

L's Pre-Date Personality Over Text
Nice pictures. Guy next door with an edge. Witty. Super clever. Hilarious. Gets my obscure pop references and is very forward and flirty.

L's Post-Text Personality During the Date
Does not look like his pictures. More of a guy next door who you want to stay behind that door. Although the wit is still there, it is of the obnoxious kind. Very on. Very loud. Still very funny. Constantly talks about his job at a bank as if it is the equivalent of volunteer work in the third world. One of those dates that you are entertained but don't know what to do if you should stay and have drink or go home.

I guess the next time I will go to the bathroom and text him so I can engage his phone personality.

Sleepy and Hollow

When all else fails. Join another app.

Enter Grindr. The land of headless torsos (maybe Ichabod Crane is real after all), silent bobs and the proverbial dick pic.

Back in my non-single days I remember reading about how Grindr changed dating for the gays. Well, so far it has not done anything for me. Grindr is like a dive bar where not a lot of dancing is happening. Nobody has a face and barely anyone talks.

Funny thing is, once you are in more than one app you start to see the regulars. You know, like that guy at the Starbucks in the corner of your street who likes a triple shot americano or that lady you always see on your way to work. But here it is the same smiley guy you are not interested in talking to.

What is funny about online dating is that people's personalities change depending on what app their are using. Romantic on OkCupid. Sarcastic on Scruff. Asshole on Grindr.  This is my non-scientific assessment.

Just for the record. I am pretty much the same in all of them. Jaded with a side of fun and a sprinkle of sarcasm. Moms love me.

My first Grindr interaction has pretty much set up every single one after that:


Headless torso with perfect abs: "Sup"
Me: "Hey, how are you?"
Headless torso with perfect abs: "Fine"
Me: "Do you happen to have a face?"
Headless torso with perfect abs - (dick pic)
Me: (block button)

-----

Cutie with blue eyes: "Hey handsome"
Me: "Hello!"
Cutie with blue eyes: "Do you have another picture?"
Me: "yes" (I send a smiley yet mysterious picture of myself)
Cutie with blue eyes: "Another one?"
Me: (I send one of me being funny dancing with a Beyonce cutout at a grocery store)
Cutie with blue eyes:"....but do you have one of you naked" (such a charmer he is)
Me: I dont do nudes
Cutie: (blocks me)

--------

RandomPairOfLegs: (dick pic)
                                  (dick pic)
                                  (dick pic)
Me: (block button)

And the list goes on and on and on. Sometimes instead of dick pics they send bums. I actually prefer a bum pic. But if I had to choose I pick a decent conversation.

Now. There is always exceptions. Enter classical pianist with a PHD. Great smile. Okay manners. Good banter. We basically talk about everything from Trump and the american election, his love for baroque music, to the best Indian food in Toronto. We exchange pictures. Lots of flirting.

Three hours later. We are still messaging. So far so good. I ask him for his number. He says he is not a texter. So I say let's  go for a drink the next day. He says yes but might have to see his family. "Stay tune. Will confirm with you tomorrow" her says. Next day. I log on. He has blocked me.

Whatever you are asking yourself right now?.... I already did.

Knot for me

After taking a break from the apps for a couple of weeks. I decided to brave it and create a profile on Scruff. An app for guys looking for guys that have a beard, a moustache or simply are on the hairy side of things.

I first did some research to see what people were writing on their profiles. I saw everything from a list of please don't talk to me if (some people are very picky and just plain racist) to really long novels about everything they like...everything!

I decided to go with a short but concise list of things I like. If they care to know more they will ask, right?

Not long after setting up my profile, I got my first woof. A woof is the app's version of a Facebook like or the ubiquitous swipe right. Yay. I am woofy....to someone....3,235miles away! Where is that? The Seychelle Islands?

A couple of conversations that-did-not-go-anywhere after I got a message from a very cute 24 year old. Here is the thing, we all have a cut off age for dating. (it is your age divided by half plus seven) Mine is 25. This rule is there for a reason but when someone tells you "you are totally my type" you sometimes make exceptions. Who wouldn't? Rules are there for a reason.

What followed was as a very aggressive pursuit from the young lad. Two drink invites and a picture of his bum and I was still on the fence.  Here is the thing, people love to send pictures of their appendages, of themselves naked or partly naked. I personally do not get it. If you want to see me naked you have to at least buy me a drink, at least. So, I don't do nudes....ever. Gotta leave something to the imagination.

After a very uninteresting conversation about quinoa salad I got the third invite. I finally decided to say yes. We then set a date and place.

I usually try to be on time for dates but for this one I was early and I got to sit in a patio and wait for ten minutes. Drink in hand of course. He was ten minutes late. Arrived in a bike and looked nothing like his pictures. Way younger, way skinnier and not as masculine as he aggressively portrayed himself over his messages.

My question is. Who starts a date by saying "you have resting sad face, I almost did not park my bike and kept driving" Even if I have a resting sad face, which I do not, you don't break the ice with that line.

What followed was typical twenty four year cockery or millenialisms. "I am great at this, and awesome at that."  "I hate my job and my bosses do not give me an opportunity to grow". What else did I expect from someone in their twenties?

What I did not expect was when he got all fifty shades of gay on me and asked me if liked to by tied up. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. I was asked that on a first date. He kind of allured to his kinks over the messages we exchanged but I thought he was just being flirty. This guy went full on Christian Grey on me and described what he would like to do with me, on our first date.

All I could think was. "Too soon and NO GRACIAS!"

The good thing about millennials is that they have a short span of attention and he decided to end the date after the conversation went boring when I declined his offer to tie me down, no pun intended here.

We said goodbye and went on with our day. I then asked myself, how did I get roped into this date?

He texted the next day. A picture of his quinoa salad. Why? I do not know.

I did not hear from him until two weeks after when he texted me again to ask me if I wanted to share a bottle of chardonnay with him. Followed by "Can't wait to tie you up". Apparently he had a great time on our first date.

I did not, plus I do not like chardonnay.

Fish and Chips

Ok, Cupid. I will give you a chance.

Famous last words.

Of all the apps OkCupid was the one that tickled my romantic fancy the most.  You create a profile, answer a bunch of questions and can see how much of a match you are with the guy that you might be interested. Amazing, right? Not so much.

After spending a good afternoon creating the most clever and charming profile ever written and answering questions that ranged from "What is your preferred cuddling position?" to "How do you feel about zoos?",  I decided to go live.

Ten minutes passed and nothing. An hour. Three hours. Was my profile not cute enough? Did I come across like a douche? A buzzing. My first message. From Russia! A guy that look neither like a man or a woman whose introductory line was "You are the sexiest man I have ever seen, lets get to know each other". DELETE.

My phone vibrates again to tell me I have another message. This one is from a very old man with an obvious lazy eye. From Chicago. He writes: "you are so sexy, if you are ever in Chicago give me a call". Mmm... No!

So far. I am international sensation.

One thing you need to know is that I am not the most patient person. So after three days and two random messages I was ready to give up. That was until a gorgeous salt and pepper blue eyed american messaged me.

"You seem like an awesome guy. Would love to get to know you. Text me at ***-**** ***"

I mean. Why not?  We are a 73% match and he lives in Buffalo, which is only an hour away. Now, I was not born yesterday. So, I was going to go into this one with a bit of cynicism. Not sharing too much. Nothing beyond, I like movies and books and all that stuff.

Lets just say. He was not one to share a lot. The son of a famous British architect. Owner of a wildlife documentary shooting company. Self described as shy and just out of the closet at thirty one.

First alarm bell. When I asked for more picture (common practice in the online dating business), he said he did not want to send more. Why? because, he does not want people to....ahem...play with themselves while looking at his picture. WTF?

Second alarm bell. He said he was shooting a documentary in Canada. About wolverines. When I asked where. Got no answer. A light googleing told me wolverines are not quite common in Canada.

Third alarm bell. The app said he was from Buffalo. He said he lived in New York. Brooklyn to be exact. When I asked what was his favourite restaurant. He said. "There are too many!"
Come on. Even I have a favourite restaurant in NYC and I live in Toronto.

Now, after three alarms I decided to continue the texting just for the fun of it. A good distraction. Fully knowing this was not going to go anywhere.

Fourth alarm. For a week. I got the same text at the exact same time saying "Hey handsome. how's your day?" When asked how was his or starting another line of conversation I would get "I am really stressed at work, can't talk". Quite a charmer, this blue eyed man.

Fifth alarm. He got clingy. Even though he had no idea who I was or knew nothing beyond my favourite movie and what book I was reading he started to say that he was falling for me. As if. I mean I am great and all, but come on. I live in another country and he lives in New York. New York!!!!!

Sixth alarm and the 911 call.  Tired of the clinginess and lack of sharing I told him. "Either you share something or I will stop answering the texts". Oh boy. What followed was a whole day of freak out texting about how a crew he had in Nigeria got robbed. (First time he mentioned about having a crew in Nigeria by the way) My answer. "Hope you had insurance" and "Call your embassy".

Ladies and Gentlemen. If you did not guess it before. I was being catfished. I kind of suspected all along but kept it going. After several texts he finally got to the point. He said he had no money and that the robbing in Nigeria will put him and his company in a precarious position (said the guy with a house in Brooklyn) and that he needed $380 dollars to bring his people back from Africa.

I laughed and texted back. "If you are going to put all this effort into trying to catfish me, at least ask for $1000... $380 Canadian are about $250 American by the way." Needless to say. What followed was a lot of expletives from his side and me patting myself in the back for having known what was happening the whole time.

The big lesson here is. If a really really hot guy from another country tells you are sexy, it is probably a catfisher. Also, check your phone plan. I thought I had international unlimited texting. I did not.
A hundred and fifty five dollars and a bruised ego later I can laugh about it.

Chicken Soup for the Sole

Sometimes life takes funny turns. Sometimes they come when you least expect it.
So here I am. Back in the dating pool after many years of being in the comfy cocoon of a long term relationship. To my surprise, things have changed a lot in the dating world in the last ten years. So much, that I am navigating a whole new world.

First lesson.

Nobody meets in person anymore. It is all about the apps.
Oh the sweet world of online dating. where you can get away with being a dick and showing your dick. (we will get to that later) Now, there is a lot of pros and cons to online dating. Big pro. You get the strain-out the weirdos. Big Con. There is a lot of them.

Deciding what app you want to use is all about what approach you want to have to dating. As I couldn't decide, I dowloaded three apps. OkCupid. Grindr and Scruff.

Second Lesson

The picture, the picture....the picture! Trying to find a photo that says you are handsome, fun, in good shape, kinda sexy but in an accessible masculine way that you want to introduce to your mom is nearly impossible. Two months into this dating business and I am still trying to find that picture. In the meantime I seize every opportunity for a perfect picture.

Third Lesson

Have a degree in marketing, you will need it. Selling a product is way easier that trying to sell yourself. You have to be part mysterious, part charming, part party-guy, part introspective hipster.
When in doubt, give your profile to your friends. They will tell you if you are off mark.

Fourth Lesson
Expect nothing.  Really. Go into it with nothing but a sense of adventure and a good sense of humour.