Posts Tagged ‘flirting

17
Jun
09

boys are like buses

When I was offered this blogging gig, I was a little concerned that I might not have enough material to write about. My dating life wasn’t that exciting and I hoped that the fact that I was going to have to write about it would mean that I’d put more effort in to actually searching for a man. For whatever reason, suddenly my dating life has got a bit exciting and I’m really not sure how to handle things.

I am not good at this whole dating a few people at once thing. I feel like that kind of dating has a whole different set of rules of engagement, and I don’t have the playbook in my possession. Suddenly, there are a couple of interested parties in my life and it worries me. Thrills me and excites me as well of course, but is a tad stressful. I met someone last week that made my heart flutter, and he is totally interested, but I’m flying out to BC to spend time with Bali Boy on Monday.

I’m also worried because obviously whatever I write about my love life is fairly easy to find online, so I’m forced in to a position of being totally honest and upfront with people. But then, that’s kind of how I am anyway.

This is a rambling post, with no real point so I should probably end it. But I have a really awesome post I want to write about what happened with this new interest, I just have to work out if I’ll shoot myself in the foot by doing so.

On another unrelated note, I just spent 24 hours in Finland on assignment and feel compelled to mention that the Finnish men almost knocked the Montreal men out of the water looks wise. If you are attracted to 6’5 blonde Nordic God types. Which, I kinda float my boat. I came close to getting intimate one with a very hot Finn this week, but decided that two boys messing with my mind was enough. Sigh. My love life feels just like waiting for a bus, none in sight for ages and then three come along at once.

12
Jun
09

montreal boys

I know that I already confessed my adoration of the French-Canadian male, but I feel that this is a topic that deserves

No, really, I was just taking a picture of my daughter.

No, really, I was just taking a picture of my daughter.

further attention, especially as I actually took a few pictures to use as evidence of how gorgeous Montreal boys are (you will notice that my toddler is in some pictures, as I didn’t actually want to be caught taking pictures of hot strange men).

In Montreal, it really did seem like there was a disproportionate number of attractive men. They were everywhere. My friend joked that it didn’t matter where we were, in the Metro, a restaurant, any store, there were at least three attractive men in our sight. The young men were gorgeous, as were the old men and everything in between. It wasn’t just that they were just naturally attractive, it was also that they took good care of themselves. Montreal men dress well, even if they were wearing a Ramones T-shirt and jeans, dressed like a hippy or in a suit, they could carry off their look better than other Canadian men can.

The sexual confidence that Montreal men display is dead sexy. They are not afraid to flirt, hold your gaze and even talk to you. Then of course the accent drives me wild too. I am a sucker for that sexy French accent and could have someone read me the news with that purr and get turned on.

Doesn't my daughter look cute? Oh and look, there's a hot boy!

Doesn't my daughter look cute? Oh and look, there's a hot boy!

I spoke to a few Montreal guys about the sexiness they had and they were both surprised, they thought that it was very hard to be a man in Montreal because the women were snooty and did not appreciate them. “It is hard to be a single man in Montreal,” said one young hottie, “there are not enough women here and it is hard to meet someone special.” I felt so bad for him, I wanted to move straight to Montreal and address the imbalance!B1IMG_0510

10
Jun
09

the un-date date

I am in Montreal for a couple of days, and being here has me wondering why it was that I moved to Halifax. There are hot men everywhere. Beautiful men that make eye-contact, smile at you and touch you gently on the arm with a ‘pardon’ if they bump in to you. I swear I haven’t stopped swooning since I arrived. Of course it helps that they all have sexy accents too. I am here for a job, I’m writing a story on ‘hippy Montreal’ for a women’s magazine, and I’m traveling with my daughter and a lovely friend, who is offering babysitting back-up, which allowed me to go for an evening out with a very handsome man.

I met this man, lets call him Francois, on a press-trip a few years back when I was six-months pregnant and thought him the most charming man that I had ever met. When I walked in to a room he would stand, he opened doors for me, and was incredibly chivalrous. I was totally enamored with his behavior, and loved his flirtiness. Francois and I stayed in touch thanks to Facebook, and when I knew I was coming to Montreal, his hometown, I asked to meet for drinks because I knew he would show me a side of Montreal I couldn’t discover alone.

We had a really lovely time together. He was just a charming as I remembered, told me half-way in to out first beer that he had never found pregnant women attractive and then met me, “You were there with a big-belly, chubby, and very sexy” he said. I think the word “chubby” was meant as a compliment and took it as a lost in translation kind of thing, because obviously its not an entirely flattering word! Anyway, we drank more, he was fantastic company and I had the best night out that I’d had in ages. Here comes the catch.

Francois has a girlfriend. A beautiful, young girlfriend who he is madly in love with. So, our evening together was not a date, even though it felt a lot like one, especially at 1am with three beers and a couple of rum and cokes in my belly.

A picture Francois took on our un-date. Yes, I am flirting through the camera lens.

A picture Francois took on our un-date. Yes, I am flirting through the camera lens.

We both laughed at how much fun it was to be on such a date like un-date and I cursed the fact that I don’t meet men like Francois who are single. Francois is quite a catch, I think that his girlfriend must be a very lucky woman (and have the patience of a saint considering what a flirt he is!) Being the victim of infidelity made it easy to draw very clear boundaries and know precisely what this was, and the fact that we were able to completely frank about so many things made the evening feel very mature and responsible, and I never felt like it veered in to anything inappropriate despite the fact that under different circumstances, I would for sure be falling for this charming man.

It was a fun and perfect evening. All the best qualities of a really perfect first date, with none of the expectations. I was reminded of how fun it is just to flirt, and realize that I should try to do so more often, which probably means that I need to drag my lazy ass off my sofa and go out in Halifax more often. Perhaps in the future I’ll just target French-Canadian men though, fortunately there are a fair few here in Nova Scotia so it shouldn’t be that hard to find some.

25
May
09

Game on!

The chatting with Bali Boy has continued on an almost daily basis over the past few months. I like him, he is sexy, smart and gorgeous. He makes me laugh hard, so much so I snorted Cheerios out my nose and all over my iMac last week. Our chats are intense, fun, sexually charged and leave me wanting more. I have been trying desperately hard to sell stories on BC in order to justify a trip out west to visit him but it didn’t look like I was going to be able to do it.

Just when I was about to give up, I managed to score an assignment for a national magazine that requires me testing out romantic resorts (yeah!) so at the end of June, me and kiddo will fly to BC, I’ll drop my daughter off with her father for 10 days and spend some quality time with Bali Boy.

This seems like it will be the perfect way to consummate our “relationship”. He’ll drive us to the resort in his convertible, we’ll spend two days holed up in a luxurious suite that has a jacuzzi tub made for two, ocean views and everything you could possibly ever want for a dirty weekend. Hopefully the connection I felt that night back in Vancouver so long ago will still be there, we’ll make each other laugh, and enjoy each others company enough that the rest of my time in BC will also be spent with him.

I’m so happy that I’ll at least get to have a bit of fun, because it has been so long since I’ve spent time with someone I really like. Like I said before, this can’t go anywhere and I’m okay with that. I’m not looking to fall in love with someone who lives in the city I am so happy to have left, and this guy isn’t looking for a long-term thing.

This will be a fling, with a start and an end.

For 10 days I will exist outside of the realities of being a mom, where I get to be someone else. An all the time sexy and fun version of me, where I am not responsible for anyone and seeking only my happiness. Kind of like me ten years ago, but more jaded, less desperate to please and much more concerned about my own joy!

09
Apr
09

He looked good on the dancefloor, but….

I ventured out on Saturday night to go to a club here in Halifax for the first time, the Paragon (which used to be the Marquee) where Skratch Bastid was playing. It was a fun night, Skratch Bastid played an incredible set and I danced for hours. There were lots of hot boys, and one in particular kept dancing near me and eventually we locked lips and made out. Thrilling! He was super cute, but it turned out he was only 26. He thought it was no big deal, and we kept hanging out together. I had an overwhelming urge to drop the ‘I have a kid’ bomb to save wasting my time, or his, and when I did he responded with interested questions. I liked him.

So, he and his roomie were having a little party after the club closed and my posse of six decided we’d go. More beer? For sure! I fully took advantage of the fact that my neighbor who was babysitting said to stay out a late as I wanted, although I was feeling a little guilty every time I saw a clock. I held hands with the boy in the cab on the way home and everything was going well, until we got to his place.

We walked in to his sparsely furnished bachelor pit and I realized that his lifestyle was so far from mine that nothing was ever going to happen between us. We’re talking a framed picture of dogs playing poker (I’m pretty sure it was supposed to be ironic, but maybe not) above a thrift-store sofa, and very little else in the room. The floor was bare tiles. There were four garbage bags full of empty beer-cans on the balcony. It was like student digs, but he wasn’t a student. It wasn’t just his place that was shocking; once in the cold harsh light of his apartment, the appeal of him had worn off.

I sat there for half an hour, but I just wanted to get home to bed. Suddenly I felt too wasted to even pretend to be interested in the drunken conversations going on, and I was feeling REALLY guilty about my neighbor there waiting for me to get home (who I assumed was asleep, but it was 3am now, what if she wasn’t?)

I made for the door. The boy got up and asked if we could exchange numbers. I said with as much sincerity as I could muster, “Sure, give me your number and I’ll call you,” and he asked if we could go out next Saturday. I said yes, then I felt really guilty, but there was no way I could cope with seeing him again (but being in Halifax I believe the likelihood of this happening is pretty much 90% going to happen). I wrote his number on my hand and went downstairs to wait for a cab in the lobby. Horror of horrors, I was waiting an hour for a cab, and didn’t make it home until 4.30 am. It was the latest I’ve been up in years and years.

Once home, I had a bath and sat there scrubbing his number off the back of my hand. In my drunken state I started thinking that I missed my ex-husband. But then I remembered seeing him recently and that ridiculous “Dumb and Dumber” haircut he has now, and it made me smile, and I realized that no matter how lonely I feel, or how much I want a man in my life, I don’t want my ex-husband any more than I want the interior design challenged 26 year-old. Better off alone than in another crummy relationship.

12
May
08

Bounty Boy, SingleTease–Upping the Effort Ante

People are getting so creative with their SO searches these days, it’s beginning to make me feel positively lax. Obviously there’s online dating, speed dating, matchmakers, profile doctors, dating coaches, seminars, singles’ mixers and all that good ol’ stuff. Then you have bachelor auctions, “concierge” services w/female company included, and all the other quasi-fun, quasi-creepy borderline pimp services. And then there are the few but ever-increasing folks who take dating search to entrepreneurial new levels.

First, there’s homeboy who got in the Onion and on a daytime talk show for starting a grass-roots email campaign to find himself a girlfriend. I call him Bounty Boy. Different from your average garden-variety spammer, he actually is offering $600 to the person who sets him up with Mrs. Bounty. Well, wait, I guess regular spammers promise such things as well, but a friend-of-a-friend actually knows this guy, so I’m assuming he’s a real person, not a fake name attached to an auto-email system somewhere in India.

Anyway my questions for Bounty Boy are as follows:
1. Why the Onion?
2. If your email gets passed along four times before someone finally hooks you up with the girl, do all four of the people in the chain have to split the $600?
3. Do you want a girlfriend, or do you actually just want to be on TV? (Being that this originated in LA, it’s okay to admit to a bit of both.)

Then, next up, we have my lovely lady of SingleTease. I have no idea what her name is, but I saw her speak at a small business conference, and I was tickled. She’s started a clothing line (SingleTease…duh) with logos that advertise the wearer’s single status. Messages include SINGLE, ASK ME OUT, SAY HELLO and LOOKING FOR GOOD PICKUP LINES.

To me, these messages are okay, but not as bold as they could be. I brought up the whole idea to an editor, and we had a field day coming up with SingleTeasers: MY EVIL TWIN THINKS YOU’RE HOT, TO TAP OR NOT TO TAP IT (THAT IS THE QUESTION), or the simple but effective DO ME. Truthfully though I’m not sure I have the cojones to wear any of the above–I’m not really much of one for advertising stuff on my chest. The only logo tee I own has Strawberry Shortcake on the front. (Yes, it’s my size. Barely.)

Nonetheless, I’ll probably have no choice in rocking the SingleTease look in broad daylight, b/c I stupidly, over-enthusiastically volunteered to do so for the local paper. And as for Bounty Boy…well, he probably has a Ms. Bounty already plus 15 backups waiting in the wings. You can get a lot for $600 in LA these days.

15
Feb
08

When Vegas escapes…

Oh man oh man. That ‘what happens in Vegas’ saying isn’t just a catchy ad line. It’s a RULE, and it is in place for a reason.

That is what I have learned in the two weeks since returning.

Diary confession: I flirted with a boy in Las Vegas. We actually went to a strip club. That is IT. Nothing happened, not even a kiss. (I would tell you if it had. After all, I have no idea who you are, and you could be anyone in the world including my mother, a stalker or a potential client. See? Totally safe.)

Anyway whatever. Nothing happened b/c I asked him whether he had a girlfriend and he said ‘yes.’ I said ‘DAMN’ and that was kind of the end of it. I’m not a homewrecker.

Next day, the texting begins. And continues, all the way back to LA, and thence to New York (where I was the last week…more on that later), and then back to LA again. At first it was rather innocent: i.e. You wore me out last nite…

Hum. that does not look so innocent, now that I read it. But it was. It referred to miles walked and sleep lost, not rigorous athletic sexual activity.

Anyway, I must confess I brought the whole game up a notch, demanding that he come out and meet me the first evening he was back. Not that I actually wanted to see him that badly–I was having drinks w/friends and then going to a show at Spaceland. I was just curious to see what he would do. (Curiosity is one of my major personality traits. I wouldn’t call it a flaw, but it does complicate life sometimes.)

Anyway, he didn’t, but has been fishing and trolling to see what I’m up to ever since. AND has upped the ante beyond fun and risky to downright sleazy by implying that he split with his lady. For 10 days, implying this. Meanwhile I’m in New York, going ehhhh? While my GFs (dating writers, pole dancers, all-round cynics) are like “YEAH RIGHT!” in a Greek chorus fashion.

Back in LA this week, things come to an awkward finish when I discover on his Facebook acct that he is very much part of a twosome, and that we apparently have mutual friends. Right away I message him–The world is too small–and he replies in a friendly way. We shoot the shit for a while. We log off.

He texts me at 9PM w/a couple hours free, wanting to know what I am doing.

What am I, a pay-by-the-hour hooker? I want to say, but don’t.

I say nothing, and continue working on my LA Times column about the strange impulses triggered in men if you take them for a first-date nightcap in a strip club. Coincidentally, a man whom I’d had a similar evening out with two years ago (I think he and I even sat at the same table) had texted me that evening as well, wanting to know whether I could be his date to some big televised event in Las Vegas.

At least that potential sleazy tryst would stay in Vegas. The guy promised me. Still, television is too close to reality for me. I live in Hollywood, what can I say? And even though I write this blog, I am not actually a big proponent of sleazy trysts.  Or men who screw around on their ladies. Actually I hate those men.

Back to Mr. LA-via-Vegas. This morning I got a little bitchy via email. And he got a little wounded-innocent, saying perhaps I’d daydreamed the whole thing. At which point I offered to copy-paste our text exchange. At which point he apologized, sarcastically. At which point I turned into Level III Hurricane Lena. (I can go up to Level VI by the way. You should see it. It’s fun…from a distance.)

Anyway, I think after many huffy messages we have worked things out. Mr LV-V-V thinks I am ‘mean’ and I think I am ‘stupid’, but apart from that, we’re good. I hope. And I have learned a valuable lesson, which is that next time I meet a random guy in Vegas, go out dancing and wind up in a strip club, I’ll leave without getting his number. Or his name.

Peace out, and happy Valentine’s to all.




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