I was having the conversation recently about when a girl starts ditching her friends for a guy (I know it also happens with men). I began thinking of all the little instances in which it happens…nothing major at first- a weekly meet-up is not kept, then a big night out is ditched in favor of a night at home, then the rest of the girls just stop asking that friend to come out at all.
This brought up the question, when do you step in? When is it ok to put your nose in the middle of a friend’s relationship.
10 years ago, my answer would be totally different than it is today. When my friends were marrying off at the age of 21, it seemed much more necessary to step in and tell them how I perceived their relationship…they were 21 and naive. Now, my friends are mature, responsible adults. They have experience with dating and relationships. We talk about relationships all the time. So when I see one of my friends in a horrible relationship, I honestly don’t step in. I offer advice if I’m asked, but will never outright tell them they are making a mistake.
I think if someone was about to make a massive mistake, like move in with or marry a man who was a complete dick, I would step up. But I have a very close friend who married a man who is an asshole to everyone in the world (including me), but treats her like gold.
I have one friend who berated my views on this once. Said something about me not being a very good friend. This same friend (Cindy) is in a horrible relationship, that I know will go nowhere (eventually) and has also cried to me about how she hates another mutual friend because the mutual friend told Cindy that Cindy was dating a loser. Cindy now refuses to discuss her relationship with the other friend. How is that enticing me to be what she thinks is a better friend? She’s smart and will figure it out on her own anyway.
When do you step in?
A few of my most loyal readers may remember when I flirted with eHarmony 2 years ago. I hated it, and felt it was a huge waste of money. There were clearly more women on the site than there were men, and all the men were short. I ended up with 2 dates out of it…one of the guys was gay, the other I could have ripped apart with my pinkie.
But I’m doing it again.
I’m just bored and don’t want to bother with the riff-raff of free online dating sites.
I already hate it again, and it hasn’t even been 24 hours. I think I wasted my money again.
Your matches are waiting for you—eHarmony
The Meet: A bar somewhere. I thought he was hot the second I walked in. Naturally, I waited for him to come to me, which he did eventually. I wouldn’t say we hit it off immediately, but it was an enjoyable encounter. It ended short though- his group of friends got kicked out of the bar before he could ask for my number.
The Number Exchange: While he was settling the tab for the dudes who got kicked out, I contemplated walking up and giving him my number. I didn’t do it because of the drama associated with it. The bouncers actually forcefully removed his friends. The next day I had regret because I never find men attractive when I first see them, and then still like them after I spoke to them. I asked a friend who knew someone who knew someone who knew him to give him my number.
The Hook Up- Monday night, I got a text from him. He did try calling first, but I was having phone issues. I feel it’s important to note that because he didn’t just try to wuss out and text first. He called and didn’t leave a voice mail, which I like because I HATE checking voice mail. The message read : Hey. Want to go for a drink this week.
This gentlemen, is the perfect way to start something. Straight and to the point. No fucking around. Ask the question. No flirting, or texting for 3 months with nothing happening.
I suggested Thursday, and he said “Ok. I will be in touch Thursday during the day”.
Again, perfect execution. I didn’t have to spend the week wondering when he would text me again or if he was still interested in hooking up. I had a set time to start waiting for his texts.
Thursday, he texted “Still up for tonight? If so, there’s a bar at such-and-such an address that is about halfway between where we both live. 8 works for me. Does that work for you?”
That’s pretty much where I fell in love with him. I didn’t have to do anything. I didn’t have to think, wonder, ponder, look shit up. All decisions were made.
The Date- I knew going in that he was younger than me. I don’t even hang out with girls my age and usually can’t stand guys my age. He was good though. Smart. I’m pretty sure I wore too much makeup for the hippie bar we were at, and I’m sure he thought I was too bourgeois. I had a problem with his glasses. When I met him, he didn’t have glasses on, which tells me that he wears contacts. I’m all for men with glasses, but these weren’t cool-trendy-goes-with-my-look glasses, they were I-need-these-to-see glasses. He couldn’t out his contacts in for our date? It was enjoyable though. He did make me pay a portion of the bill, but not all of it. That’s only a deal-breaker if there were other things that went bad.
The End- This is always the most crucial part. This is the part where you hope he asks you out again. This is also the part where you hope you can get a good make-out session in if he’s hot. This guy was hot. Unfortunately, I parked right across from a crowded patio, so there was no chance of that even happening. Then my fate was sealed in a seven word sentence:
“You’re the funniest girl I’ve ever met”.
Nuts.
No one wants to date the funny girl.
I’ve been waiting for an excuse to post this, then I remembered this was my blog and I can do whatever i want.
So I spent the last week across the pond visiting my friend in London. An overall fabulous trip, with one exception: the airline lost my luggage. I won’t spend an entire blog post bitching about how horrible of an experience it was, and why you should never, under any circumstances, fly with AirTransat. Instead I will tell you one of the odd upsides to this.
I dressed comfortably for my 7 hour flight to the UK: jeans, a t-shirt and a hoody. I did this not knowing these would be the only clothes I had for the next 3 days. I was lucky to be able to bum a tee off my hostess, but Friday night, I was out, in public, with my glasses and a hoody. I was humiliated at first. I never go in public with my glasses on…but my contacts were somewhere between London and Toronto. And a hoody??? I find it too casual to wear to the gym sometimes. Drop a little London rain into the picture with a fuzzy head of hair as the result, and that’s what I looked like out on the town in London during the England/Algeria game on Friday night. Not exactly FitDarcie at her most glamorous.
At the first bar, I was timid. I had no liquid courage at that point, and kinda sunk my ugly self into a corner. Clearly, that bar was ruined for me. On to the next bar, a shot and 4 pints. UglyDarcie now had liquid courage. At the next and final bar, all the magic happened. As my hostess pointed out the next day every time she turned around, I was in the middle of a different group of guys. They loved me. I totally conquered London men with frizzy hair, glasses two-day-worn jeans, borrowed make-up and a hoody.
I have 2 theories about how this all happened.
Theory #1- Being Ugly Puts Me In a Broader League
This is a theory I’ve had for a while. When I’m Fabulous FitDarcie, I am so far out of most men’s league that I am completely unapproachable. For most men, there is no point in even trying because I am way too hot for them. When I’m looking a little run down, they feel they have a better chance, so they are more open to approaching me. Read this post- I got hit on with mascara down my face and one earring in.
Theory #2- When I’m Less Impressive, I Relax More
I recall a night out a few years back where we decided to wear skirts out on the town. It ended up being a lame night, and the last time I wore a skirt out of the office. When I get all dolled up, I expect bigger and better things. When I don’t think I’m impressive, I just don’t care, and I’m more able to let loose. This helps me to approach men more easily, and the real FitDarcie just comes through.
I didn’t meet my desired hunky black man with an English accent, but I did meet 10.9MM other British men…none of whom had names worth remembering.
“Opposites attract” is one of those common phrases that seems to have entered our lexicon a long time ago, to the point where it is generally now just accepted as common wisdom. So much of popular fiction is based on it, from “Romeo and Juliette” all the way through to the “Twilight” saga (not to mention 99.9% of all teen movies and romantic comedies). And it is understandable why this notion holds so much appeal for many of us. We love to root for the underdog. We want to see that boy from the working class family win the heart of the Prom Queen, even though her father doesn’t approve of him, and all of her friends think that she is too good for him. We want to believe that true love conquers all. But do opposites really attract and, more importantly, do opposites sustain?
My answer is no.
“Opposites attract” sounds much better in theory than it does in practice. Sure, someone who is totally different from you can be exciting for a fling, or something casual (ask any adult woman who has gone through a “bad boy phase” when she was younger), but if you want a long-term relationship, then you should look for someone with whom you have more in common with than not. This is not about finding a clone of yourself, or someone whom you agree with on everything, because that is impossible. A little disagreement is healthy. But you need someone who shares your general beliefs and values, who can relate to the important areas of your life. You need someone with the same temperament, and who fits into and compliments your life, rather than conflicts with it.
I know that this is the part where everyone will want to talk about their uncle/cousin/old college roommate, whomever, who is a Born Again Christian married to an Orthodox Jew, and they lived happily every after with their ten kids. That is wonderful for them. But that just proves that there are exceptions to every rule, not that the rule is invalid. I mean, think about your friends. You don’t have friends (I mean, real close friends, not Myspace/Facebook friends) that you have almost nothing in common with, do you? Of course not, what would be the point? So how come when it comes to romantic relationships, we have developed this myth about opposites?
Don’t get me wrong, I am not talking about little differences, which can be worked through. If you’re a little bit country, and they’re a little bit rock n’ roll, that should be fine. And some differences can work to a couple’s advantage. If, for example, one person is kind of an introvert, maybe it is good for them to be with someone who is a little bit more extraverted, to help get them out of their shell. But if the difference is huge, then that could backfire. If your ideal Friday night is sitting at home, curled up with a good book or watching old movies on TV, then you are not going to last with a person whose typical Friday night is spent at a club, dancing and drinking until 2am. Maybe you both could try to compromise for the other, but eventually you will get tired of going out, or they will get bored staying in. So why even bother going through all of that hassle?
Once again, I admit that I can understand the appeal, that forbidden fruit syndrome, of wanting someone who may not be completely right for you, but it is important to think of the future. Do not just think about how hot that person is right now; imagine when you have both gotten old, wrinkled and broken down. When all you have the energy left to do is sit in your rocking chair all day, do you think you will still enjoy this person’s company? If not, then pass.
Just my opinion.
Yesterday, one of the biggest fears of my life was realized. My piece of shit car got a flat tire on the 401 express, just above the city, during the tail end of rush hour. Not the part of rush hour where cars move super slow, but the part of rush hour where things just start to open up so semi-trucks pass by at alarmingly high speeds…2 feet from my plastic car. I follow the news. I know how often defenseless, yet really good drivers are in the same predicament and get slammed from behind by some asshole on their cell phone.
Now, let’s all take a minute to read yesterday’s post. Fearless-Independent-FitDarcie did not come with me on this car ride. It was Scared-Shitless-Of-Speeding-Semis-FitDarcie that was out last night. I frantically dial for a tow truck. 2 hour wait. I dial another. 45 minutes. I said fine. I figured if nothing else, my heart was beating so fast, I could probably lose a bit of weight while semi-trucks were narrowly missing my car.
I send an e-mail to my soccer mates, who had to play without me yesterday, advising I wouldn’t be there, and gdammit, this is exactly why I need a boyfriend. One of them replies with a snarky remark about how I could potentially get a towtruck driver for a boyfriend that night.
Hmmmm. My dad tried setting me up with a married man with 2 kids once because the dude was a mechanic. I bet a towtruck driver would do.
As I’m waiting for the tow truck that I called for, a few others pass me and stop. The first one was too fat, so I told him I had someone coming. The second had no teeth, so I told him I had someone coming. The third, Vic, asked me right off if I was ok and not too freaked out. I called the truck company and told them I no longer required their services. It was me and Vic from here on in!
I’m no fool however. I realize that this strapping young lad with an interior so patriotic to Portugal and phone calls from his mom about feeding his cat, could charge me basically whatever he wanted for this tow, and I would probably pay it. So I had to find Fearless-Independent-FitDarcie. I remembered some tips that Paul had given to yesterday’s post:
In a relationship, men require the following:
1) all kinds of sex
2) ego stroked once in a while, not in a fake way (eg., laugh at our jokes in public)
3) listened to: listen to our stories even though have told it already, accomplishments no matter how small
4) To feel useful (or needed)
5) Men enjoy the act of creation of things (maybe because we cannot create life)
6) To protect spouse or girlfriend
#1 was out of the question. The truck seats were comfy, however, I’m not that desperate to get out of a $150 tow fee.
#2- Piece. Of. Cake. “I can’t believe you got out on to the 401 like that! You just walked out there like it was nothing! Golly you’re brave!”
#3- Piece. Of. Cake. He talked about how his cat ate some chicken the night before. I hate cats. I pretended I cared.
#4- Piece. Of. Cake. “I don’t know what I would have done without you! I don’t know the first thing about car maintenance!” (read the second paragraph of yesterday’s post)
#5- That was a little more difficult. But, I did it. “You made the interior of this truck so inviting. My dad drives a lot of trucks, but none of them are fully decorated with flags and hats with “Portugal” all over them. Very creative!”
#6- That was the easiest! “Oh man! I was so scared out there! My heart is still racing! I don’t know what I would have done if I had to wait 45 minutes for someone else! You probably saved my life!”
And the grand finale? Like I said, I was on my way to soccer…spandex pants. Checkmate.
The tow cost me $30, he argued with the mechanic at the garage about how much I should be charged for the repair, and I got his number.
I was out with some friends the other night, two of whom are happily married men, the other a well-adjusted single mother. Single Mom and I were discussing men, as single women often do. The two married men interjected their wisdom from time to time. One of the things they said, and I’ve heard it before, is that men need to feel needed. Jokes about how women need a man to grab a plate from a high shelf, mow the lawn and fill up the car with gas followed.
I have a problem with this. I’ve been hardwired to not need a man. I’ve been living on my own for all of my adult life…with roommates scattered in during my university years. My dad has been buying me tools and teaching me basic car maintenance since I was a kid, I haven’t even lived in the same town as my parents since I was 18. I’m too cheap to pay for bike maintenance so I’ve Youtubed bike repair a dozen times. The last time I lived with a guy, he was so incompetent at life that I was basically taking care of both of us. I actually HATE relying on people for anything (except rides to the airport…this Wednesday? Anyone?). Because of this independence, I wouldn’t even begin to know how to fake needing a man. I don’t keep anything out of reach and I don’t have a lawn…and I’m being told that’s what you need to do.
Now, on the other hand, I believe people can change, and I think this is a change I could benefit from. Yes, I can do everything I need to do to get by on my own, but why should I? I HATE carrying in the 10 gallon water bottles from my car. I HATE changing the brake lights on my car. I HATE scrapping the frost off my windows. These are all things I can have a man do for me, and make him feel needed at the same time.
Dear men: It is my belief that we women, who have fought so hard for equal rights, will end up being the oppressors. We, the emotional sex, have altered society’s thinking in a way that makes you think you need to do stuff for us to feel needed. We in turn, don’t need to do that stuff. We’ve also convinced you that we need to pay someone to come in and clean the house every week so we can spend more time together, and have made your sex the better chefs of the world. We’re winning.
A few weeks ago, I was out with some friends. These friends brought their friends, and their friends brought other friends…you know how it goes. There were 2 new guys brought into the mix. Both deliciously attractive. Drinks were flowing, laughs were had….One of the new guys took an interest in me, as most people do. He flirted with me, I flirted back. It wasn’t hard, he was hot.
At one point, I went to the washroom. The new hottie was waiting as I exited the washroom. No words were spoken, he just grabbed me, pushed me up against the wall and started making out with me. I let him. He was hot. After a few minutes, I pushed him off of me and stumbled back to the table. The night continued as if nothing had happened.
At bar closing time, a gang of 5 of us were left. The two hotties, my friend Amy, and Amy’s friend Becky. Amy was full on making out with one of the guys by the end of the night, and the signs were clear that he was going home with her. She and I live on the same street, so naturally I would go home with them. Since the 2 hotties were together, they would both be going back to Amy’s house. I figured I’d step up to the plate and be wing-woman to the hottie I’d already made out with. In the car, I began to wonder what the hell Becky was doing with us. She didn’t live near us at all. The beer left me with a cool sense of I-don’t-care.
Once we got to Amy’s place, Becky’s attitude took a turn for the worse. She began treating me very badly. With the beer wearing off, I could think a little more clearly. I pulled Amy aside and asked her if there was something going on with Becky and the hottie I made out with. She told me that they were a couple. I made out with the boyfriend of another woman, while she 10 feet away.
I promptly left Amy’s house. I didn’t feel guilty. He was hot.
Toronto, ON- FitDarcie’s Fan Base, a group of select individuals known for excellent taste in selecting blogs to read has grown by 1 member in the past week, a feat that can be deemed nothing by a miracle. Avid reader and long-comment poster Brett announced the arrival of a baby boy sometime last weekend.
“And no, not a sugar daddy, a real daddy”, says the proud father of baby Isaiah without prompting, “Man, I’m so excited, now I want 15 more!!!!”
Thought the details on the delivery (size, weight, time) are sketchy, it has been concluded by the owner of FitDarcie, FitDarcie herself (who is not the mother of the baby), that the baby is really cute. “Yes, that kid is cute” she said recently, “I’m looking forward to seducing him at the Crocodile Rock in 20 years when I am officially a cougar.”
The FitDarcie community is extremely proud that one of it’s members has boys that can swim.
About FitDarcie Fan Base
FitDarcie Fan Base is one of the best groups of people on the planet. They are united in their love for FitDarcie, a real attention-whore. Their loyal support and comments on the FitDarcie blog have been boosting FitDarcie’s ego for over 2 years. But having babies is pretty much the only thing on earth more important than her ego.
