Seriously – I found this note in a plain brown envelope…

I was cleaning up my office this evening in the interests of not sitting in utter chaos and actually getting some work done tonight. I filed some stuff.  I stuffed a whole bunch of other stuff in a blue bag and put it in the basement in the hopes that the shredding fairy will come tonight and take care of it.  It’s looking pretty good – I can see the floor now that all the crap is gone:


And then I found a random brown envelope, nothing written on the face of it, but something made me look inside. I just about pissed myself laughing when I read it…

This is “Pretend Boyfriend” at his best. I have no idea when he left this in my office – but assume it must have been last December or January when he was hanging about here all of the time moaning about his wife. (Or, perhaps, he left it here when he was taking care of my house for me when I was in Cuba last February and having my fun liaison with the Hot Italian Hippie who wears Prada).

In any event, Pretend Boyfriend was probably wounded that I didn’t notice this gem and thank him for his clarity and insight into my life….



As I’ve said before: THANK GOD I AM SINGLE!


Sometimes men are just too stupid for words…

My “pretend boyfriend” from last winter showed up this week. I don’t think I really mentioned him too much – he’s married and I met him in a bar last fall.  I had no idea  that he was married.  That is, until he asked me out, I went ,and then found out he was one of those asshole married men who think it’s okay to stupid shit like that.

I will make a really long story short here. After him fixing a lot of crap in my house, trying to boss me around about how I should run my business, introducing Mata Hari to a complete douche, hanging around my house constantly, crossing the line by making out with me, but when I took my clothes off he panicked and bailed, I told him to fuck off.

And, I have to say, my life has been much better without his little stress puppy, complaining self in it. But, apparently he has missed me and asked me out for dinner tonight.  So, being the curious type, I went.  Oh my God.  I wish I hadn’t.

This guy is wired for sound. He starts off dinner with “I have a call at 7:30, so we have to be finished up by then.  Me “Well, let’s just call it a day and you go do what you have to do and we’ll get together some other time”  Him:  Well, I didn’t want to cancel and upset you”.  Me:  I wouldn’t have really given a shit – go do what you need to do – I really mean that.”

Which, of course, makes him cancel whatever it was that he had to do.   So lame.  I couldn’t stand being around him.  I’ve never spent 1.5 hours with someone so stressed out, and with an agenda he couldn’t articulate but was so transparent I nearly felt sorry for him.

So, I helped him out. I told him I wasn’t interested him, I liked him as a friend, and that unless he could actually behave like a normal person around me, he should never call me again.

It’s possible I hurt his feelings but I don’t care. I am completely sick and tired of stupid men who try and manipulate me and think I’m stupid, and that I should be interested in all of their stupid shit and drama.


Stabbing myself in the eye with a fork would have been more fun than this…

Well, now I know why Mr. Hot is single and his last girlfriend dumped him. His true colours came out on Wednesday night and as a result I have deleted him from my life. Forever. I will never again speak of him or acknowledge his existence after this blog post.

I think the following text transcript is somewhat helpful in explaining why I am so pissed:

Me: I nearly bought allsorts tonight so I could eat all of the coconut ones. But went and got my nails done instead. It was a good day – XXX thinks I would be a great go-to finance person for the local companies they invest in : )

Mr. Hot: Hey, you are on a roll. I would have little doubt. Good for you. And good call on the nails.

Me: I’m pretty happy that I’m still somewhat employable. And that I didn’t send 4000 calories straight to my ass.

Mr. Hot: Ahh, employable, smart and adorable ass. A little less sweet with the candy loss 🙂

Me: You say the nicest things handsome : )

Mr. Hot: You are welcome. Just sayin…

Me: Besides being the hottest man I’ve met in recent memory, you are completely charming.

Mr. Hot: And a dirty mind : )

Me: One of your very compelling qualities..

Mr. Hot: Yours works a bit on the edge too…

Me: You are one sexy man Mr. Hot.

Mr. Hot: I’m hard… And thanks…

Me: Oh I am completely unable to be anywhere near you without being wet.

Mr. Hot: Come over if you would like?

Me: Half hour or so?

Mr. Hot: Sure, door is open.

(I don’t normally ever go to a man’s house but I have two roommates living with me now who were home, so him coming to my place was not an option). Anyway, it was pretty amazing. Very intense hour or so. Between his dirty mind and his big penis, I had a shit load of fun.

And then, it happened… HE KICKED ME OUT OF HIS HOUSE!! Five or ten minutes after he had his orgasm. I am not making this up. He actually said to me “let’s get you dressed”.

I was in a complete state of shock. I have never had anything this gross ever happen to me post-sex. I was speechless (a rare thing for me). So, I got dressed, he tried to hug and kiss me, perhaps realizing that he had just been a complete asshole to me, but who knows. Maybe he is just that big of a douche, I don’t know. I left and he’s lucky I didn’t spit in his face, which is what I felt like doing.

So, I get home and start thinking about this, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.. Not my usual thing, but I like the guy and he’s been great so far, so WTF was this all about?? Trying to be a grown-up, I wanted to let him know how completely shitty that made me feel. God, I don’t recognize myself writing that. I should have told him to fuck off and let that be the end of it. But no, I open myself up for the fucking weirdest text exchange ever:

Me: I really like you and having sex with you is amazing. But that post sex get away from me asap thing is something I’ve never experienced before except with you and it makes me feel shitty. So not sure what is up with that except that you think I’m only booty call material. Which I get but not what I want.

Mr. Not so Hot (the next afternoon): You are a friend  who I am physically attracted to and you have arrived in my life at a time when I’m not interested in a relationship. I need to spend time with my kids, work through the loss of my mother. A relationship is not on my radar. I enjoy your company and I apologize if I have crossed the line with our physical activity. Let’s sit down with a coffee and discuss.

(Oh, and wait, this is the icing on the cake)

Mr. Not so Hot: …and last evening I took a pill to help with our enjoyment of the evening and at 11:00 the side effects were full on. (dizzy, headache).   Again I apologize. We will manage our friendship with greater clarity…if it is not too late.

Holy fucking just kill me now. If it’s not too late???? I clearly tell him my feelings were hurt and he comes back to me with something that implies I’m at fault. WHO WRITES THIS KIND OF SHIT???? I showed Mata Hari the text. I was upset. How could I have liked someone, hung out with them for two months and completely misjudged them? In the way that only Mata Hari can do, she looked at me and said: “He doesn’t go down on you. There’s something wrong with him. That plus the fact he tried to blame you for wanting a relationship, and telling you that you must have misunderstood things.” I love her so much

I deleted him from my contacts, deleted his texts and dropped off a typed letter, unsigned, in his mailbox this morning:

“If someone thought I was as big of a douche as I think you are right now, I would want them to tell me.

I left your house on Wednesday night feeling like a low-rent hooker that you couldn’t get out of your bed fast enough. The only thing missing was you tossing me some money. It’s a real first for me – congratulations on being the only man I’ve ever fucked who made me feel like a whore. It was beyond demeaning and something I won’t forget anytime soon.

I have all the clarity I need regarding our friendship. Friends don’t make friends feel shitty.

I think I left a purple wrap at your house. If it’s there, please leave it at security at the next time you’re at the office. “

I really shouldn’t have to deal with this shit at my age.  And KMS, you see what happens when you leave the country – shit goes down baby!

Please, just kill me now…

Full disclosure – I went on Ashley Madison to see what kind of men were on there.  Apparently, not the kind I should be hanging out with.  No, I did not hook up with a married man.  Yes, I did meet a single man who is in town every second week on business. No, it did not work out.

So, while Ashley Madison man is sitting on my couch telling me that he hopes we can be friends, I get a couple of texts.  But being riveted with the shit-show that is unfolding in front of me, I resist the urge to see who the texts are from and what they want.  I should have went with my gut as it turned out Mata Hari was texting me, and it would have been way, way more fun to hang out with than this asshole.

Here’s how it goes down:

AM Man:  So, I’d like to be friends with you.

Me:  WTF?  (This is our third date – I actually made an effort tonight and cooked him dinner.  Anyone who knows me well knows this never happens).

AM Man:  Well, on a scale of one to 10 on the gregarious scale, I’m normally a five, but with you I’m a two or a three.

Me:  What does that mean? (but inside I’m screaming WTF!!!  Alarm bells, alarm bells! Crazy man!)

AM Man (as he is kissing me and running his hands all over my body):  Well, I don’t feel like I can be myself with you, but you are beautiful and hot and you are a great kisser blah blah blah.  (Then proceeds to do deep staring into my eyes, apparently doing the tortured soul thing).

Me:  Well then, I have nothing to add to this. (I actually had a lot to add to this, but it didn’t seem anything worthwhile on my part to even go there).

Me:  So, well, see you later.

AM Man:  (Deep Hug)  Good night.  Dinner was delicious.  Thank you.  I’m really glad we can be friends.

Me:  Good night. (But actually thinking – get the fuck out of my house please, you asshole, and you are never going to be my friend after that conversation.)

Me:  (Door shut, delete him from BBM)

So, I go look at my phone and I see it is a text from Mata Hari:

“You would not believe the night I am having.  It’s blowing my mind.  My jaw is wide open in shock.”

I laughed out loud.  Mata Hari is my kind of woman.  And when she texts something like that, you know some really interesting shit is going down.

So I call her to find out what’s up.  And yes, there is seriously hilarious shit going down for her, but not my story to tell.  (As an aside, it seems Mata Hari and I have amazingly entertaining lives compared to most other women our respective ages).  Anyway, despite what’s got her attention on her end, (and this is why I love Mata Hari – even though she is having a completely f”””ked up night, she listens to my tale of man woe and had this to say):

“Well, clearly he is crazy.”

I bow down to her!

Yup, it’s time for a little man break…

And the reason for this is 50% because of last weekend’s completely unexpected shit show of a night down town.  And 50% because the motivation to try and make any plan at the moment that doesn’t involve me hanging out by myself complete eludes me.

Back story:  I got contacted on-line by an engineer from Texas who was in town last weekend for a conference.  We email back and forth.  He was quite amusing and articulate over the email so I told him I would meet him for a drink, and as long as he was charming, handsome, witty and not dressed like a homeless person, drinks could possibly turn into dinner.  That exchange morphed into us arranging to meet at 7:00 pm last Friday at Dugger’s (a very upscale menswear store) so he could ensure he was properly dressed for the occasion.

I show up looking amazing.  Again, one of those times when even yourself can’t pick yourself apart. Although he did not look like a homeless person, he definitely could have used a better outfit (yes I am horribly shallow).  Karen, the fabulous woman who works at the store, had him looking like a new man in under an hour – it was quite a transformation.  She steamed the shirt, took all of the tags off everything, and she rings in the purchase.  Apparently, he thinks designer clothes are the same price as Walmart clothes?  The total was well north of $1,000, and his credit card was declined!  Then two more credit cards were declined!

To say I was embarrassed was a bit of an understatement considering I’m the one who brought this guy to this store and wasted an hour of her time when she could have actually been making money from someone who had credit cards that worked.

It gets better.  He was all dressed in the new outfit (including shoes!).  Then he had to slink back to the changing room to get the old, in comparison shitty outfit back on.  (He said he was going to come back the next day and pay for everything when he got his cards sorted out, and I truly hope he did.  Otherwise bad karma is going to follow him around for a long time).  Then it gets even better.  He wants to walk to the restaurant.  I have 3 inch CFMs on.  I refuse.  Tell him that he can certainly walk if he wants to, but I’m getting in a cab.  And I got in a cab.  And he, sensing that I was in no mood for screwing around about this, followed along.

So, clearly, this guy is an asshole and clearly, I wouldn’t be caught dead having dinner with him as would probably have to end up paying as he comes to Canada with $80 cash and broken credit cards!!  I mean, seriously?????

We arrive at the restaurant and walked in, where I saw many people that I knew.  I figure the best way to get rid of him was telling him he should probably make figuring out his credit card problem a priority, so he left to make the calls.  And turns up about an hour later, I’m assuming with the problem fixed, but didn’t really care enough to ask.  He saw me standing at the bar with my friends.  I looked at him, shook my head, and shooed him away.  Yes, I really did that.  Totally shooed him away.  Yes, I can be a total first class bitch.  Yes, he deserved it.

Then, Mr. Stole the Book shows up.  We go to various bars, where he hits on dozens of women, frowns at any man who comes near me, tries to get me to say I’m his girlfriend, is generally a pain in the ass,  and then back to my place.

I am happy to report that his lack of ability to actually process or comprehend even the simplest of concepts has finally outweighed any desire I have to have sex with him.  I sat there on Saturday afternoon after he left, and all I could think was “how is it possible for someone to be that goddamn stupid????”  (Apparently that chick that was his girlfriend a few weeks ago thinks she’s pregnant.  I haven’t received an update as of today, but last I talked to him, when he dropped by my house completely unannounced on Monday, he was headed to her place with a pregnancy kit and he was going to make her pee on the stick in front of him).

I sat there again on Monday during the unannounced visit and listened to him tell me what a good catch he was, how he wasn’t really thinking about how this chick could maybe get pregnant when he had sex with her without a condom, and how he never thought to ask her if she was on birth control, and how thought he had a lot going for him, and then I tuned out the rest and just watched his lips move and thought, yet again, “you are truly stupid”.  He is definitely charming and a nice guy, and women like him (but I put that down to the fact that most women, and I include myself in there, can be desperate at times and in a bar situation, or a naked situation, he has his charms).  However, to have a conversation beyond anything completely superficial is pretty much impossible.  Anything more substantial than how his grey suit makes his complexion look good is best not ventured. Not to mention, who lives at home with their parents at that age????

On the upside, at least I’m not mourning the booty call anymore.

Mr. Handsome and Successful, who I really liked, can’t seem to actually ask me for a proper date.  Received yet another text telling me that maybe he will be around on Friday night, and what was I doing.  I deleted him.  As handsome and successful as he may be, there is obviously a reason that he is single and I just do not have the energy or desire to try and hang out with someone who may or may not be around, and may or may not be a total asshole.

I’ve reached my tipping point with man bullshit.  So, I’m done.  Done with man drama.  Done with hanging around with 50 year old babies who still live at home.  Done. Done. Done.  At least for the month of June.  And until new, fresh man drama crosses my path : )

Mourning the Booty Call….

For the love of God, it’s like men can’t get out of their own way.  I’m a tad pissed off.

I thought I had struck a perfectly good arrangement re booty calls with Mr. Stole the Book.  Apparently that is not 100% the case.  I am either too stupid to be interacting with men, or he is just stunned.

I called a couple of nights this week, around the midnight hour, looking for a booty call.  I’m pretty sure that’s kind of the hour you would be looking for it????  He got completely cranky with me for the late hour and waking him up.  (Or so he said, pure speculation on my part as to what he was actually doing).

So, Mr. Stole the Book comes over for supper tonight.  He’s on his way to Toronto to hang out with his brother and niece so he can think about things.  He loves me, but he’s confused.  I seriously cannot stand this type of drama and it makes my vagina shrivel up.  I told him that we were done.  I’m actually too smart of a person to be wrapped up in his dramatic world.  He is so stunned it’s actually quite remarkable. KMS, you are so right that I can do better than this.  Anyone must be better than this intellectually.

I’m really, really happy the last time we had sex was so amazing, but holy shit I cannot be involved in this type of crap.

So, good-bye Mr. Stole the Book, and thanks for all the great sex.  I will miss you, but quickly replace you.


You will never, ever have another woman as exciting as me


And the Man Sh*t Show Continues…

I sat at the beach today, on a rock, in the freezing cold for about two hours, listened to Johnny Cash and 4 Non Blondes, watched the waves hit the rocks and contemplated just WTF I am trying to accomplish here.  With men.  Not my life in general as that part doesn’t suck.  But holy shit the man drama I invite into my life on a continuous basis, although wildly entertaining, sometimes does me in and I have to make a retreat into solitude.

Yes, clearly I am thriving on the man drama – anyone who knows me well, gets that about me.  And WTF would I write about if I wasn’t skewering the male species.  I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.  Like I said, it entertains and amuses me, but sometimes it ends up getting all f**cked up, and feelings get hurt and then I feel bad and wonder is it me or them?

It occurred to me after the rock sitting that I am cavalier to the extreme in my attitude towards men and relationships in general.  I don’t want to let anyone in, and if a man can’t play by my rules, then his ass gets tossed.

Which is okay.  Men operate like this all the time.  It’s not like I’m trying to form a life bond with someone or have babies.  I think it’s okay that I think like this.  My problem is that I am completely unable to figure out WTF any of these men want.  (And yes, I do have enough self awareness to realize that I have the attention span of a flea where men are concerned, not to mention the whole commitment-phobic thing I have going on….)

A few examples:

1.  I have not yet mentioned the Israeli. I met him at a business function and had a text from him before I even got home from said function asking me out. He’s the type I go for – shaved head, big, aggressive. To make a long story short, he has some fabulous sex skills, and then some not so fabulous sex skills. I could have ironed out the not so fabulous sex skill part, but he is spending way too much time pouting now. Apparently I was supposed to turn up at his hotel room this weekend. For sex I suppose. No mention of a dinner or drink in there at all – how stunned are you to have this kind of interaction with a woman you want to have sex with:

Israeli:  (with no head’s up, shows up at my client’s office and wants me to take a walk with him)

Me:  No, I’m busy, ttyl

Me:  text Israeli the following:  “Congratulations – awesome news for you!  If you have time while you are staying in town, let me know”

Israeli:  “Well, that’s why I came over but didn’t want to say it in front of them.  I have time tonight after 8:30.

Me:  OK, will let you know.  I have dinner plans but if not too late when I’m done, will text you”.  (More about those dinner plans further down)

Israeli:  “Just come by any time”.

Well, I didn’t text him that night because I was busy; but did touch base the next night:

Me:  I’m at the “”name of popular restaurant” (This at about 10:00 pm)

Israeli:  “I have to go to my room to work on my business till midnight”.

Seriously??  WTF???  Can you say asshole???  Yeah, so anyway, I ignored him after that.  He texted me at around 11:30 PM looking for me. For a smart guy he is pretty stupid.  Like, can you even try to be a tiny bit charming???  Or am I so oblivious I am missing something here??

2.  I met a guy at that very same Popular Restaurant a few weeks ago. His name is Handsome and Successful. He is, obviously, very handsome and successful. We exchanged texts, I don’t think he is really adept at dealing with women, but I can overlook that given the handsome, successful part. He finally, after me initiating the “if you want to go for a drink let me know” text, invites me out for dinner. We agree to meet at Popular Restaurant on Thursday night.

I swan into popular restaurant looking absolutely fabulous.  It was one of those nights where even you can’t tell yourself you don’t look hot.  I get in, don’t see my date immediately, but then there’s a tap on my shoulder.  I turn around, and there is Mr. Stole the book from the hotel room in Mexico inviting me outside for a drink.

I text Mr. H&S to tell him I’m outside with friends and when he arrives that’s where I am.  Mr. Stole the Book asks me what I am doing there.  I lie and say I am meeting a potential client.  I ask him what he is doing there.  He tells me the truth – he has a date with 25 year old.

Now keep in mind I have been having really great sex with Mr. Stole the Book since the middle of January, all the while keeping him at arm’s length while I go to Cuba with Hot Italian Hippie, have a couple of nights with the Israeli, and am generally the antithesis of what would be considered a good girlfriend.  (I think he thought I was his girlfriend…)  There have been statements on his part of “I love you”; and on my part not so much.

So, it got a little touchy between us.  Not in a good way.  He didn’t believe me about the client and I thought I deserved the courtesy of a heads up that he was dating someone.  Anyway, just as it all started to completely degenerate into a scene, Mr. Handsome and Successful, who is about 6’5” tall, hockey player type, shows up, kisses me on the cheek, puts his arm around me and in we go to the restaurant.  Mr. Stole the Book just about had an aneurism and it probably didn’t help that all his friends were standing around and witnessed the whole thing.  Mr. Stole the Book is, at the moment, pissed off at me like you wouldn’t believe.  But I actually don’t understand why.  He has been flirting/having sex with other woman at the same time as me, so why he is morally outraged when I am engaging in the EXACT same kind of behaviour is beyond me.

Anyway, had a fabulous night with Mr. H & S.  He dropped me off at my place in a cab at about 2:00 a.m.   I resisted any urge to invite him in.  Why is that?  Well, because this could possibly have some future potential as a proper boyfriend thing so I’m going to have a wait and see on that – it’s a 50-50 toss-up in my opinion.

3.  Which brings me to Friday night. It was exhausting. Mr. Stole the Book made a point of showing up everywhere I was, with his new woman. It was ridiculous. Sometimes this city is just way, way too small. However, I ended up having a really decent night. Met nice guy, had slutty moment, will not be seeing him again, but was exactly what the night called for as he is an acquaintance of Mr. Stole the Book, who hopefully finds out about it. Yes, I am being completely sixteen years old and spiteful. (Weirdly enough though, that man turned up at my house yesterday morning to say hello. It was very disconcerting to say the least. I rushed him off as was still in the throws of a mild hangover and really didn’t want to bother with any more conversation with him. Apparently, he didn’t want me to think he was taking advantage of me. I actually laughed out loud)

4.  Which brings me to Tinder. Wow, what a shit show that whole thing is. Yes, I signed up. So far haven’t met one single person on there. All these men want to do is swipe right and text you endlessly with sexual innuendo. I’ve “unmatched” all of them except a couple. I’m supposed to meet one on June 5th when he is in town. I haven’t decided whether or not I will go, there will most likely be another shiny object that will have my attention by then, but you never know. So, I don’t get this male behaviour. You are supposed to be on Tinder to meet people. What’s with all the messaging back and forth??? Wouldn’t you just rather meet someone than waste your time like that?

Anyway, that’s a month’s worth of man drama, and I’m now going to retreat and be a sensible woman and use my spare time appropriately by sitting on rocks at the beach and hanging out with my dog.