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From a stand up guy to the guy who stood me up.

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tumblr_mdjqg1zz9u1qdv42bo1_500Two months ago, while I was sitting around with a broken ankle, feeling sorry for myself, I found some comfort in watching re-runs of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. In one of the episodes, Ross gets stood up on a date. I mean in truth, he didn’t really get stood up because his friends (Joey and Phoebe) intentionally wanted him to realise how shitty the dating world is so that he would try and make amends with Rachel, so they set him up on a fake date. But poor Ross is sitting at the restaurant sipping on his water, wondering why his date isn’t showing up. I remember seeing this and thinking “oh god, how awful it must be to have your date not show up. What would be even more horrible is if you’re on a blind date, and your date walks in, takes a look at you and decides to walk out.” Who does that, you ask? There are assholes aplenty and while I could never do that to someone, no matter what a bitch I can be, the same can’t be said for the rest of the population.

So the seed was planted and when I started venturing out on dates this year in January, the thought did cross my mind a couple of times. On my first date with Mr January, he was 15 minutes late. He was lost and didn’t have wifi but during those 15 minutes, I wondered if perhaps I too like Ross had been stood up. That wasn’t the case though 🙂 And what a relief that was.

Last night, I was to meet someone who asked me out for dessert. We exchanged interesting messages on Tinder and there was a great flow of communication. He was in town for a couple of days and while he obviously had a jam-packed schedule, he asked me out for cake. I never say no to cake so I said yes. We were to meet after his dinner party that his friends were hosting him for – I’m quite a stickler for proper times and plans – but I was being flexible. “Between 9.30pm and 10.30pm”, he said, to which I replied “10.30pm sounds good.” He loved carrot cake and while I teased him about why anyone would enjoy vegetables in their dessert, I remembered a bakery in town that sold quite possibly the best carrot cake in the city.

I like being early on dates. At least 10 minutes earlier than stipulated to allow me to settle in and get used to my surroundings. So I arrived 15 minutes to 10.30pm at the cafe, went up to the second floor, found myself a cosy table and ordered myself a glass of Chardonnay and waited:

10.30pm – It’s time. He’s not here yet. I suppose the cafe is tucked in a corner and he may take some time to find it.

10.35pm – Okay, maybe it’s time to look at the menu and decide on what dessert I’d like to have while I wait so I don’t take too long to decide while on a date.

10.40pm – Still no sign. I look at my phone, trying to open up text messaging apps to see if there was a text I missed out on. Nothing. Okay breathe.

10.45pm – Maybe tonight’s the night I get stood up. Oh don’t be silly. Let’s look at the menu again. Do I really want that coconut tart?

10.50pm – 20 minutes late. Should I text him? Profiterole is a funny word. Also choux pastry sucks. I wonder what he’d order, you know if he actually shows up. Breathes.

10.53pm – No show. Maybe he walked up, took a look at me guzzling down my Chardonnay and decided that’s not how he wants to spend his evening. Oh don’t be silly. Text your friends. They’ll calm your nerves.

10.58pm – Empty glass of Chardonnay and a dull ache in my tummy. Maybe he is waiting downstairs at the bar, thinking I’m late. So I ask the waiter if I could sit downstairs. At least this way, when he walks in, I might be able to wave and be like “Here I am! let’s eat cake!”

11.01pm – This is ridiculous. Maybe he died? These things happen right? Maybe I’ll text him, just in case. But first, another glass of Chardonnay. “Hello mister, am I seeing you soon? Drinking alone is not quite as fun and dessert beckons.”

11.02pm – I get a reply. I’m not going to quote him but in a nutshell, he apologised that dinner was delayed and so he is still at his friends’ home and isn’t sure when he can leave. To which, I then I asked if I should wait. And he replies a minute later with something along the lines of I have waited enough and he couldn’t ask that of me, that he hopes I’m not too mad at him and that he needs to get back to his friends before they think his phone is more interesting than the dinner conversation. I could have snapped at him. Instead, I told him to have a nice night, finished up my second glass of wine, got the bill, walked out of the cafe, dramatically dumped the box of carrot cake that I had purchased for my date into the rubbish bin, and went home.

So, how did it feel being stood up? Sure, it wasn’t really a conventional sense of being stood up. He did text me and I suppose he did have a marginally valid excuse. But I was upset. And as I write this, I wonder why a grown man didn’t have the intuition to text his date earlier to inform her that dinner was delayed and thus, our date would be too. Or if you can’t be at two places at the same time, don’t make double bookings.

It irks me but I shall shrug it off. Did I cry about it? I won’t even try to deny it. I cried myself to sleep last night, not because I was humiliated that my date stood me up. I am far too thick-skinned for that. But rather, last night as I sat alone sipping that glass of champagne while the waitress asked me a couple of times if I wanted to order dessert and I kept telling her “I’m waiting for my date,” I wondered if I was going to spend the rest of my life waiting. Looking at my now empty glass, I felt a wave of loneliness hit me. You know how much I love the dating game but last night, I got played. The Universe had a go with me. Well played, Universe. Well played. Me – 0, Universe – 1.

Who’s next? Let’s play.

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Let’s stop taking pictures with sedated tigers.

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Revisiting an old post of mine from an old blog:

This year, I made a commitment to myself that I would consciously try to find dates and with much zeal, I turned to my friend Google and typed in the words “best online dating sites”. I was very pleased with the results. Where do I even begin? They have dating sites for EVERYBODY, which might come across as sounding a little far-fetched but I kid you not. There is a site to cater to people of every kind: Indians, Jews, over 40s, Vegans, Catholics, pet-lovers, activists and the list just goes on. I’m sure if I looked harder, I might even find a site for Sociopaths to find love.
So I’ve put myself out there on a variety of general dating sites. It’s my first week into this new commitment and I’m already dying a little. Granted that not everyone looks great in pictures, why do men insist on doing things to make them look stupid in their profile avatars?  Maybe it’s just me but do women actually find the following observations/ trends in profile pictures of men, attractive?
– Holding up freshly caught fish in both hands
– Showing appreciation for hard rock music with the rock is alive sign along with tongue out.
– The James Bond look (Making a gun with thumb and index finger while holding it under chin)
– The topless mirror shot
– The pixelated webcam shot which almost always looks like it was taken in a basement or worse, your very own custom-built dungeon
– Close-up of the face with head at an angle, placing a lot of emphasis on one’s nostrils.
– The backward cap
– The I-work-out-hard-at-the-gym shot
– Selfie at the steering wheel
– Petting sedated tigers. WHY? no, really. WHY?
– The Group shot. You really want me to scroll through all your pictures to figure out which one is you? Ain’t nobody got time for that, son.
– The group shot surrounded by scantily clad women. We get it. You are popular with the ladies. So why are you on a dating site?
– The middle finger/ double middle finger shot. Keeping it classy eh?
– The elevator selfie
– The infinity pool shot
and my personal favourite, the selfie indoors with SUNGLASSES. Generally, if they fit into any of the above categories, I just skip their profile and move on to the next. If you can’t put up a self-respecting shot of yourself, I doubt you’d have taken the time to fill out your bio and details with dignity. However, when I do read through profiles, I am overwhelmed with disappointment and frustration over men including things like “the god-given ability to give good head to women”. Really pal? Of all the talents you might possess, that’s the one you’re going with? NEXT.
Perhaps this is why I’m still single. I heard on NPR recently that it’s possible to find love, however temporary, anywhere so long as you lower your expectations by 70%.  Stay tuned for more misadventures where I carefully unravel the shit men write in their dating profiles.
Handy-selfie-guide-for-men
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Mr January: Setting the Benchmark

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It’s been a while since I last went on a first date. Since August 2014 to be precise, when I first decided in a long time to date someone seriously. That lasted all of till December when I threw in the towel for many reasons that are irrelevant now. In January this year, I finally reconnected with all my dating apps – just two to be quite frank. I was ready to get back into meeting new people and I was very much looking forward to the thrill of the chase.

First dates are never easy but being an extrovert helps. But you know what helps even more? When your date is the perfect gentleman. Mr January, from the moment he walked through the doors of the restaurant that I had selected for the evening, was the perfect example of my kind of a first date. He was confident, incredibly polite, mildly conservative and cheeky. He asked for the waitress’s name so that he could address her properly throughout the night. He attempted to make me blush all night; he may have succeeded a couple of times but I admit to nothing. As I sipped on my Old Fashioned, examining his arrogant nose that sat beautifully on his playful yet kind face, I could feel myself getting drawn in. To what exactly, I have no idea. But what I did know was that I was attracted to the man sitting across me and I wanted to know more. That’s what good dates are about right? Genuinely being interested in someone – the way they see the world and what inspires them, the things that make them happy, what makes them cry. To me a good date is when you can slowly and effortlessly peel the layers off of a person (figuratively, you perverts!) to reveal bits of their personality. You don’t always like what is revealed but every now and then, you are enthralled. And on that beautiful Monday night, I was intrigued, my friends. It was an amazing feeling. But I was cautious. The last time I felt this way was a year ago when I met M.S who oh so poignantly told me on our third date that he had a girlfriend. So I treaded lightly, not giving any indication, not consciously anyway that I was getting reeled in slowly but surely.

4 beers, An Old Fashioned, 3 Gin Tonics and 4 other rum-based cocktails later, all of which were consumed over 7 hours, we headed home, parted ways, sealing the night with a kiss I couldn’t forget even if I tried. When someone looks at you right in the eyes and asks you “let’s see each other again, okay?” you’d think I’d be able to come up with some snarky reply but all I could muster up was a meek yes, while I was still trying to recover from the kiss.

It’s odd being the person not quite in control. Typically I steer most of my dates, from the conversation topics to making the little decisions. It makes me shifty to watch someone so comfortably taking the wheel from me. It also feels weirdly good to sink back into my seat and allow someone else decide that yes, I should have another drink because the night is still young and there is so much more for us to discover.

I’m waiting patiently for the second date with Mr January. I am rather fond of this chap but I also know better than to try and tame a nomadic spirit. So we shall see how this pans out, if at all.

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First date of 2015.

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There are men who have a way of speaking that is both flirtatious and belittling all at the same time. Grown-ass women should know better than to fall into the trap. And yet, here I am waiting for that text that probably isn’t going to come.

Deets to follow from the first date of 2015.

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The Element of Chemistry

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Chemistry is defined in the dictionary as the complex emotional or psychological interaction between people. The beauty of venturing out on dates with people for the first time is that every experience is different because of the emotional, sexual and psychological attraction and connection with each date is vastly distinct. Can attraction be built over time? Sure, I’d say so. But there is nothing quite like the feeling of sitting across someone over dinner and getting slowly but surely drawn in.

How often does that happen, you ask? Almost never. And if it does miraculously happen, you find out eventually that the person charming the socks out of you either already has a girlfriend or is married. True story folks, true story.

2014 was an exciting year of monthly dates. On average, I went out with two men a month. The second half of the year involved a little bit of semi-serious dating but the first half was a bonanza. Some encounters were hilarious, a few were cordial and my favourite dates were the ones you could write comedy skits out of. I had meant to remember every vivid detail of each date and document them here but I found myself discussing them in person with my closest friends in a more intimate setting.

I have a handful of single friends who share notoriously similar dating stories and these stories should be shared, if not for entertainment purposes, at least to show a hand of solidarity that we’re not alone in this dating jungle.

So here I am, giving this another shot. I will be using this blog to document the dates I go on and I’d love to hear your dating stories too if you’d like to contribute a story. You may email them to thedateexpectations@gmail.com

Welcome to the world of the dating game. Let’s play.