I spent time at a cottage this weekend…there were about 15 of us up there, most of the others were couples. (read: FitDarcie didn’t get any action). When I first learned that one of the ladies was married, the first thing I blurted out was “But you’re so young!”. She was my age. They all were. Given that 90% of the people I normally hang out with are older than me and single, I found it so strange that these people were all paired off.
When I caught my reaction, I thought “Damn, more people should think like me.” Ok, I always think more people should think like me. But if everyone thought that 30 was too young to be married, I would be happier, and my life would be easier. There would be less pressure.
That got me to thinking about the “pressure” to be in a relationshionship. Where was it coming it from? Who was pressuring me. Though I complain about it a lot, I couldn’t come up with a singler person who made me feel like I missing something by not being in a relationship. The only people who really think I should be tied to a man are other women who are tied to a man…usually those who are unhappy.
So maybe I make up the pressure myself?
I met a man a few years ago at a conference. He was nice enough, and we hung out, but he lived in Chicago, and I lived in Toronto, so I knew it wouldn’t work. Over the few years, we talked a lot electronically, and met up at a few trade shows here and there. It was no secret that he hots for me. He’d passive-agressively tell me on a daily basis. I’d usually just laugh it off.
I really liked this guy. He was funny, smart, in the same industry as me…we really connected, though not in “that way”. When my birthday rolled around, he sent me a dozen roses, and passive-aggressively signed the card. It got me to thinking…could it work with this guy? No one had ever (or since) sent me flowers.
We got along fantastically. We really seemed to have a lot in common. So then I decided to at least make an effort. We spoke on the phone a few times, and agreed that the best thing to do would be for him to come for a visit.
Though I didn’t explicitly say that it would be a sort of trial, I thought that was assumed. It soon became apparent that he did not assume that. I pretty much had a panic attack for the next week straight. If the guy had been perfect all along, I would have probably been excited at the prospect of having some far-away man come to woo me for a weekend. But all I could think about was that on Sunday around 2pm, I would have a boyfriend, and my life as I knew it would be over.
You guys have no idea the turmoil inside me that week. Worst. Week. Ever.
I should point out that the guy was not attractive. My friends who have met him think he’s passable, but all agreed that he was no one they would go after. This was the scariest part of all. I knew that “certain things” were expected to happen that weekend. I really tried to convince myself that I could get over his unattractiveness. I’ve made out with ugly guys before, all I need to do is get wasted, right?
He showed up, and I pretty much knew it’d be a struggle. We headed to the bar pretty much immediately. I drank like my life depended on it. I can’t remember a time I’ve ever felt such urgency in my drinking. Shot after shot…none of it could get his bad looks out of my mind. Even drunk I tried tricking my own mind. He was prefect in every other way…
The end of the night was a disaster (in his mind). I was rude, and gave him nothing. He left immediately after he woke up and we’ve never spoken since.
I don’t think I’m that shallow of a person…but when it comes to locking lips, only the hotties over here please.
I wont lie, income is important. Personally, the level of income doesn’t make much of a difference. I’m not looking to support anyone, so some level of independence is important. I would say, that whoever I’m with needs to be in the same financial position or better than me. That sounds fair.
I dated a guy once for his money. My mom always says “Don’t make the same mistake I did. Marry for money.” and I tried it out. This was a few years ago when I was way more shallow than I am now too, and I couldn’t handle it. Not that I didn’t enjoy the nice dinners and valet parking without having to reach for my wallet…I just knew we weren’t cut from the same cloth. He ended up dumping me via voice mail, and thus confirming that we weren’t meant to be together.
I also met a guy once who had no job. Not like he got laid off, or was working on some big deals…he had never really been employed. I have no idea how he survived to be honest…and it was the one time I did feel a bit guilty for letting him pay for my drinks. The level of income isn’t important…but there has to be some income, preferably from a legitimate source.
I know all you men are going to scream foul at this…you’re going to claim that women totally care about money. I can tell you, with the plethora of female friends I’ve had over the years, only one of them has ever mentioned that money is important, and she’s stinking rich so I can imagine she doesn’t want some gigolo taking it all. For those of you who think women care about money, look in the mirror again…it’s not your lack of income that is a turn off.
Females who say “I have way more guy friends than girl friends” are really saying “I have no friends at all”. Not for the same reasons as mentioned in my platonic relationships post, but because that’s what girls who have no friends say. Guys will talk to a girl even if they hate her. This does not make them their friend. Also, men who call women at 2am looking for some late-night action are also not their friends.
I have a friend who’s always saying that she gets along way better with the guys at work than the girls. I sympathized with her, and deemed all her coworkers as catty. Then I met up with her for lunch, and realized that she dresses for work in the same outfits as she does when we go out to bait men. This is not “getting along” with men” this is “ensuring men wont walk away when you talk to them”.
Most women want to be my friend. I can see why. I’m amazing. Everyone loves me. I find these women who insist they get along better with men are more desperate to be my friend than any other sort of woman. They almost beg. I feel bad for them sometimes, but I don’t want one of these among my besties.
I also find these women have low self-esteem and this is why they seek the attention of men. Throw one girl into a sausage party, and of course she is going to get attention. That’s why they try to be the only woman all the time (note, this does not apply to me at my gym).
I wont deny it, making female friends is way harder than getting men to hang out with you, especially when you’re as hot as me…but having a wing-woman at a bar is way more useful than a group of drunk frat boys.
Isn’t that picture fabulous?
Tags: girl friends, relationshipsI wont lie, I will make a hunky guy I’m dating bring me to a spot that I know I will be seen with him. It makes me look more desireable to be seen with a lickable man. It’d be nice if an ex would show up every now-and-then to realize what he’s missing, but that will only happen at 7am when I have to run to the store to grab toilet paper in my pj’s.
This lady at my gym seems to be doing the same thing. She works there…sells memberships. She’s a nice enough lady that I talk to once a year just before I hand her my credit card. I’ll smile and say hello every now and then. I can tell she’s a bit of a cougar though. Not a very good one, probably one like I’ll end up as someday…happily alone, but would love some male attention one or two nights a week.
She’s got a new workout partner. Six feet tall, dark as midnight, a few tattoos…Doo-rag aside, he’s got a good body and I was checking out the goods on this new peice of meat. She caught me. Instead of getting jealous like some fat chick would, she looked at me, smiled a big middleaged-braces-smile, nodded her head towards him and winked to me. She was proud as hell. I can’t wait until I’m old enough to be a cougar.
So, a while ago, I did a post on platonic relationships, and asked whether or not they really exist. While chatting with one of my pals this weekend, she was telling me about how a man she’s known for 15+ years has professed his love for her. This further proves my point that platonic relationships, based on the rules I set in the aforementioned post, do not exist. As long as there is the possibility of the XX and the XY’s hooking up, it can’t exist.
Now, let’s return to the relationship I was referring to above. They’ve known each other for 15 years. Why wait 15 years to tell someone you love them? Maybe if he would have said something sooner, they could have spent the last 15 years together? There should be a statute of limitations on professing your love to someone.
Tags: friends, platonic relationshipsHey FitDarcie fans, Fastlife (the company I did that speed dating through) is having a white party tonight, and you’re invited FOR FREE! Special offer, only to FitDarcie fans…and yeah, I’ll be there.
Here are the deets: The White Party
It starts at 8pm, down at wet bar (102 Peter Street).
Lemme know if you want to attend (FitDarcie@gmail.com) and I will get you whatever other info you need.
It’s free! That kicks ass.
I dated a guy who was French Canadian. He was also very stupid (not that the two are synonymous). He followed me from Quebec to Saskatchewan. As a bilingual woman, the language was never really an issue. When we’d argue, he’d call me a slut in french, and I’d cry in English. There were a few sayings here and there that he’d get mixed up. Most notably, when working in retail, he told a client that he would bend over for him (instead of bend over backwards). But this story takes the cake.
He started tutoring some girl in French…which I think was a horrible scam, and I really feel sorry for that girl because he was as useless as tits on a boar. Anyway, as an unemployed person bleeding my student loans dry, the only thing he had to do one Tuesday was go to the University (which he did not attend because he was stupid) an pick up the check this girl paid him.
He decided that day that he would dress up. Why, on a Tuesday afternoon in Regina, Saskatchewan, anyone would decide to dress up to go to the University is beyond me, but whatever. He happened to walk by a group of young men who burst out laughing just when he walked past. Because men are self-centered, he assumed they were laughing at him, and the fact that he was dressed in slacks. So he approached them. As a note, the French Canadians use the term “yo” to describe young guys who dress like thugs…as these guys were.
He said to them (please read in a a Jean Chretien type accent): You tink it’s funny the way I’m dressed? Jus because you’re dressed like yo you tink you have de right to make fun of me? It’s you yo who dress like loser.
I. Was. Mortified.
He felt like a man who had just told off a group of thugs. They hadn’t noticed him or his unironed dress shirt until he yelled at them in broken english, incomplete sentences with made-up words.
It’s the tattoos.
Please take your shirt off and/or marry me.
A while ago, I was friend with this guy. We didn’t start becoming good friend for a few years after we met, and when we did, I realized he had potential to get a shot a title. Time went on, I gave him plenty of opportunity, and he never made a move. We drifted apart. We ran into each other at a friend’s party where he told me about a girl he was seeing. Having had a few to drink, I blurted out that I had feelings for him. His response was “Why didn’t you say anything? I didn’t get the vibe from you at all”.
I was a little shocked to hear this because I thought I was totally giving him signs. First of all, I answered the phone when he called. I don’t do that for anyone. Secondly, I invited him out to dinner or drinks on several occations. Like I said in an earlier post, I hate most people, so if you get invited to meet up with me, that’s a huge deal.
Of course, he didn’t see it that way. He thought those were all just common courtesy. It kinda makes sense. And here’s my theory. Men tend to assume we women think like them. They are always thinking about themselves, and sex. They think we are always thinking about them and sex. I get hit on if I look at a guy. They think by me looking, it means I want to screw. So, when someone who is quality comes along, I think that all I need to do is look at him and he’ll melt. Of course, one of the things that makes him quality is that he has better common sense than most men.
I blame men for me not being able to snag a quality man.
