This blog is about my sordid tale of love lost between Canada and Australia, true love gained, and all the adventures that comes with it.
To be honest, it's really about the love lost, and lessons learned. And a big gap in between love gained.
It's funny how the urge to write about sadness is lessened when you are so happy.
Congratulations on letting your curiosity get the better of you. I was referring to the personality trait held by some men, rather than the phallus. If you are searching for the latter perhaps try this site.
Let's continue shall we:
Perhaps I’ve been jaded by the Gold Coast, Australia
culture, where even the most genuine of women tend to get caught up in the
facade of superficiality, and a false impression of what a ‘man’ is.
I’ve built some amazing friendships since my move here, and
am surrounded by some of the most beautiful women in the world, inside and out. (How can you
not love a community that spends 80% of the year in their swimsuit or shorts
and thongs - Flip-Flops in N. America –
this isn’t Brazil).
It is no secret that many women are attracted to 'dickheads'. Cocky, brash, testosterone filled 'dickheads'.
Even when I was at my most athletic and in my prime;
training Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu 6 days a week, taking MMA fights, pumping iron, and
hitting the night clubs, I always considered myself a gentleman. Don’t get me
wrong, I’m sure my friends can tell you about the many times I’ve come off as a
dick:
Breaking up with a girl during the movie “Titanic’ (it surprisingly made
her want me more)...
"We need to talk"
...dating the friend of a girl I was originally interested in, only to
realize the ‘girl of interest’ was actually into me in the first place (hint
for the guys: Don’t breakup with the friend thinking your true love interest
is going to jump into your arms. There’s a girl code you might not know about.
Best girl-friends don’t usually date the guy who just dumped their best friend.
You will be left a sad, lonely, confused guy).
But, these are isolated incidents, exceptions to my rule. Not the the Modus Operandi of todays typical 20 and 30-something male (stereotyping).
I’m talking about the 80/20 rule of 'dick'. 80% of the time he’s a 'dickhead'. The other 20% he's a 'dickhead' in waiting.
Ladies, here’s a hint for you:
If you date a guy JUST
because he drives a nice car, has money, like his social status, or has a “sexy accent”. You’re being
superficial.
If you are constantly giving excuses for "your man" saying “he’s not
like this when it’s just him and I”, or "he only gets this way when he drinks”,
or “around the guys”. He’s a 'dickhead'. He’s probably not going to change.
It’s no secret from my past blogs I’m trying to figure out my
mojo again.
Of course I acknowledge I’m a little bit eccentric
at times. And, perhaps I’ll look back this passage in a year and say “what a
dick” (see how I flipped who the real 'dickhead' is).
But, I’m going to throw
caution to the wind and lay all my chips on the table and bet that in one year
I’ll be with a smart, sophisticated, funny and beautiful lady who likes my
canted humour, dashes of poetry, honesty, and the ability to choke someone
unconscious in 3 seconds (had to save a little tough guy persona).
If you are of the female persuasion and are considering some
“dickhead’ reform, look no further than the guy reading a book sitting at your
local coffee shop, or your “dickhead’s” attractive friend who doesn’t feel the
need to show everyone how tough he is, but rather shows the strength of his
character instead.
The next time you talk to a guy, block out the sound of his
voice, don’t focus on his physicality, and look straight into his eyes. That’s
where you’ll truly see his heart. The glimmer of his soul.
And guys, the moment you realize that women are filled with
insecurities, no matter how beautiful. And if you stay true and are confident
in who you are; then you will find that true love of your life (I’ve left out
the word ‘one’ leading into true love -
this guy deserves another shot at success).
Endnote: Ladies, ignore the comments of 'searching for soul in the
eyes' if you’re just looking to get laid. By all means, look at his muscles; get
wooed by his accent. But just remember, that guy that you just walked by with
the soul in his eyes, just might be the love of your life.
Let's
face it. I'm not getting back together with my ex, it's been over seven months
since our separation. It's time to jump back into the dating scene.
That's
right ladies, I'm all yours!
Once the
ladies have rinsed their mouths after throwing up a little, let's continue.
WARNING: Contents WILL be unsuitable for some readers.
As I was
saying, I'm jumping - perhaps jumping is an overstatement. I'm prowling like a
ninja back into the dating scene. (Ninjas are cool).
Now for
those of you that know me, or even those people that don't, you probably have
assessed that my humor and mysterious charisma are not for every woman (I'm no Tom Hanks, but you're probably no Meg Ryan). I'm
certainly not socially inept, but most women, at first meeting, have trouble
figuring me out. I'm a little in 'your' face. A line crosser if you will.On the second or third meeting they
tend to start getting me, or at least learn how to put up with me.
The
problem is the women I click with here in this sunburnt country are either
dating someone, married, or we've crossed the threshold into friendship. Sex
(yes I jumped right to sex) with any of these three groups is wrong.
I couldn't
handle the guilt of messing with someone's relationship. It might be fun
for a night, our hearts might go thump thump when we're around each other, but
my guilt, and I hope their's, would quickly set in.
The third group, "Just Friends", has
possibilities. But, you have to wonder why you didn't get together initially,
and it would totally mess up the friendship dynamic.
Most
males right now are saying "Idiot, who cares, just get some!" (but said in
more of a crude manner). The females are most likely saying "Awww, isn't that
sweet, he's a gentleman". (I will never figure out
the mind of a woman, so this is only a guess - beautiful, intelligent, complicated creatures you are)
Believe
me, part of my being (the part below the belt, that hangs above the knees) would
love to do the 'Wham Bam Thank You Mam' with all three of those categories, but
somewhere in my upbringing (I blame growing up in an all female, aside from
myself, household).
I have been conditioned as a gentleman. Even though the
words that come out of my mouth may be perverse and crude at times, a gentleman
I'll stay.
To sum up
my personality: Weird perverse guy with a good heart.
Any takers yet?
No, then
let's move on shall we.
The JUICY Bits
I've
enlisted myself in a couple online dating sites here in Australia. One I pay
for, the other free. But the people on the latter are a little 'fishy' (some of you
will get this reference).
Here's
how the pay site works. Men and women can send Kisses (prewritten text like
"I think you're hot, wanna chat" Reply: "Go fuck yourself you
smelly whorebag" - that one doesn't actually exist, but it would certainly
amp up the site). If the other person is open to chatting one of them can send
an email which has to be paid for (around $15 per email). And let's face it,
most women aren't going to be the ones paying to send the email.
-
Although one lady did send me an email. But judging from the photos of her
(laptop camera pics of her in various crazy poses - one was her dressed up as a
cat, another had her hair sprayed straight up) and the email she sent, she
might have been 'special'. Her account was disabled a couple days later.I can only assume her caregiver found
out about her love connections. -
I get about three to five Kisses a day, and according to my roommate, that's very good for a male. The problem is many of them are well above my age range. Good on them though.
I have
been out on a couple dates thus far:
Date #1
My first
date was on the morning of my birthday. I met up for coffee with a lady in her
late 30's (or so her profile said). I initiated contacted because her
profile made her seem down to earth, cool, and her photos were very vivacious (a more
attractive Reese Witherspoon with a smokin' body). She has two children, which
I must admit scared me a little; although I was pretty sure she wasn't going to
bring them on a first date.
We both
agreed to meet at a beach side coffee shop on our bicycles at 9am. I arrived
early to secure a seat. At about 9:05am I look up and saw a cute blond pedaling her pink cruiser toward the shop. I played it cool, and pretended I didn't see her immediately.
After I purchased us coffees I sat down to what would be an hour of her talking
about herself. Only interrupted by her saying "Oh, this conversation has been
all about me, we should talk about you" and then she would continue her
description of the last movie role she was in, the sadomasochistic Saudi friend
who meets women at the casino, takes them into underground parking, and performs a range
of S&M-esque acts on them with tools he keeps in his trunk (that's the boot for my
Aussie readers, and for my Catholic readers: S&M is similar to what they used to do in the middle ages with prisoners:
Yikes!
She also talked about her children who seemed sweet,
but perhaps needed a few more rules. But who am I to say, I don't have
children. I'd probably use techniques on them I learned watching the Dog Whisperer.
Another,
more superficial, let down was that her face did not match her dating site photos.
Sure, she was the same person, but looked A LOT older. Her face was caked with
coverup which didn't do a very good job of hiding her age. Which I'm assuming
was the mid to late 40's. Now, that's not old, but too old for me right now.
The date
ended around 10:15. We decided to cycle back in the same direction, since we
only lived a few blocks apart. I stopped by her place for a few minutes, and
through our conversation mentioned that it was my birthday that day. I said I
didn't want to bring it up earlier because I didn't want to make the date weird, or make her feel obligated.
About ten
minutes after arriving home I received a text from her. It said "Happy
birthday ;-) xo" and included this photo:
I've only
added this photo because it doesn't identify her. That is, unless you can
recognize her butt.
She has been in movies, so you just might.
I've
decided not to go on a second date with her. Although the photo tempts me daily.
Date #2
I'm
attracted to women who are more intelligent than myself, that can keep me on my
toes intellectually. I'm far from a genius, but I'm above hour long discussions
about "how pissed they got last night".
I
arranged to go on a date with a 28 year old who is currently working on her
Masters in Criminology. She minored in Psych and works part time counseling
felons on the verge of being locked away. It wasn't just the possibility of
free counseling that prompted me to ask her out, it was her quick, dry wit, a
razor edge sarcasm that cut me to the chase.
We met up
for drinks and tapas at a funky restaurant near the area she lives. When she
arrived we took a seat at the bar, ordered a bottle of wine (she chose Pinot Grigio - good start) and some amazing
holoumi (we were both fans of cheese and the magical holoumi - that was definitely a good
start).
And it went downhill from there.
We didn't
so much as converse, as much as it was a debate. It was me defending myself
all night from her ridiculous assumptions and her razor tongue. She proceeded to tell me she didn't
have any friends and hardly ever went out "...because most people are
assholes". After realizing her approach, and comforting myself with the
assumption she was just masking insecurities (which I later told her) I
followed up her statement of "Most people think I'm a bitch" with
"Are you?". She admitted she most likely was.
At one
point after she was getting heated at me after I said I didn't care about the
bartender's opinion of me (this was after she said "the bartender thinks you're a
tool") "You don't care what a bartender thinks?...you're too good for
him?...I used to be a bartender..." I calmly looked up at her and said
"If you are too upset to continue with this date, I'm happy to pay and
drive you home" (at this point I was having fun, it felt like I was in a
movie). She looked at me with the 'that's just crazy talk' eyes and said she
was having a good time.
The night
ended, I gave her a ride home, and quickly drove away. Although I was kind of
aroused by her intensity, I was much more scared of the dominatrix garb she
would have dawned after I entered her apartment. I should get Date #1 to introduce Date #2 to the Saudi guy.
I don't
believe in the baseball analogy, 'three strikes you're out, but at this point I
kind of just want to head to the dugout and forgo my next turn at bat.
Although, there is
another, potentially, lovely lady who is now a Facebook friend. She has a great sense of humour, is sexy, and seems quite intelligent. But our
conversation kind of fizzled. Probably because she realized I was more than ten
years older than her.
At what point do either of you Unfriend each other
anyway?
I think
the reason many older people have 'troubles' on the dating scene is they're too damn
comfortable with themselves. Most people in their late teens to early thirties
still try to mask who they are on dates, trying to impress the other. I could give a crap. Not that I go into it without a thought of romance, or never try to act suave. I still have insecurities, I just don't mask them.
Examples:
Date #1
is superficial and can't release the vanity that used to work so well in her
youth.
Date #2
is a bitch. She may still be young, but at least she knows what she is.
Me: (as stated earlier) Weird, perverse guy with a good heart.
I may not
be having the best luck with the ladies right now. But, patience will hopefully
pay off (like a ninja). I scored a Home Run once, and I'm going for a Grand Slam this
time (I've included links to these baseball references for my Aussie readers).
"Tis
better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all"
If you've
ever been to, or lived on the Gold Coast, Australia, fill out the survey and
you might win an eReader and a copy of my upcoming book A Canadian's Guide to
the Gold Coast.
Or if you want to visit there as a tourist, it will be filled with humorous tips, helpful links, and local deals.
I'm not actually writing my own post today. I'm going to share with you an article I found about 'how changing your expectations can greatly reduce stress'. Now I only wish I could share this article with the customers that come into work, venom spewing, blaming Next Byte for an issue they're having with an Apple product.
I have always been amazed at people who enjoy the little moments in life. Those people who take pleasure from the smallest of conversations or the simplest of interactions.
(Vancouver Riot 2011 - Courtesy: The Guardian)
I on the other hand am an 'anticipator'. I pre-plan life's events in my mind. So when things don't quite go exactly the way I imagined them to be I feel a sense of disappointment or lack of accomplishment. I don't live in the moment. I'm always talking to people about "planning ahead for variables" rather than just living life. I can tell you, it's stressful being an 'anticipator', and at times for those people associated with one. Ask my ex about going to a movie with me, or the airport, especially. Who wants to show up for a domestic flight three hours prior? Me, that's who. Gotta plan for those variables. IDIOT!
I've spent an estimated twenty three years trying to anticipate my next move, wondering what the futures going to be, and attempting to change who I am in order to meet my expectations. But I honestly kept thinking I was coming up short, and I'd be caught with my pants down.
You Can't Plan For Happiness
Sure you can put certain things in place to buck the odds for said happiness. I'm not saying "never plan". But, we've all seen horrible things happen to good, hard working, people who had their life planned out.
What good would have years of planning and "anticipating" have done for my friend from university who died of cancer? Or for an ex-girlfriend (my first love) who was involved in a horrific car accident and is now wheelchair bound with limited body movement and short term memory?
What did all my forethought do for my failed marriage? Diddly Shit, that's what! I spent so much time thinking of the future that I let some of life's little, BEST, moments get away.
My younger sister, Kathleen, is currently traveling around Europe in gypsy fashion. Picking up odd jobs here and there, meeting new people, taking bike trips around Romania, spending the night in photography studios in France, and preparing gluten free baked goods for little old ladies in Croatia (forgive my inaccuracies Kathleen). She is someone I truly admire, someone who has taught me so much just by living day to day. She has no fear, finding happiness in those tiny interactions I spoke of.
I'm not writing to offer up answers due to an epiphany I just had. I'm honestly still confused about how to live life in the moment, and am unsure what true contentment is.
Sure, I'm starting to take things day by day, moment by moment. I no longer stress about work for example. I sail in, work hard, and leave job related problems and politics at work.
I've started doing activities on impulse. I'm now taking Latin dance classes (I'm on class 4), learning to play the guitar (I can play the E chord, but not well - and every time I strum the guitar I'm in the habit of singing "E, E, E, Eeee"), and met a new roommate online (I move in this coming Sunday. She seems sweet and a little bit sassy). I'm actually looking to you for solutions.
What are some of the tips for living a stress free, moment to moment, lifestyle? I'm looking for proven, and effective tips here. I realize some of the suggestions may only work for the person offering up the tip, but I'm trying to stray away from those people who are 'full of advice' but don't 'practice what they preach'.
For now I'll start slow, living from week to week, and hopefully by years end I'll have mastered the moment by moment thing. I don't want to miss life's next Double Rainbow.
May 15th
and 21st are significant days in my life, and bring forth a mixture of happiness and great sadness. You see, I was married on both these days. Let me explain:
The legal part of my wedding took place in in Vancouver, Canada on May 15,
2009. It was a day that was just supposed to be about saying a few legally
bound words and signing documents in front of a licensed Celebrant.
But it turned magical when my dad and
grandma flew in to take part. A small group of close family and friends (even a
couple of my co-worker buddies skipped work just for us) met at the Inukshuk at
English Bay to bare witness.
I have to admit in many ways it was the more
special of my two weddings. Only because it was the first time I looked into
her eyes and said "I Do".
And
then I cried like a little baby as my wife gently wiped each tear from the corner of my eye.
My sister, her then boyfriend, and my mom flew in to
celebrate with us that night. It was the perfect day.
May 21,
2009 was our wedding in Thailand. We both had "done it all before" so
we were extremely relaxed.
On the day, she sipped champagne at our villa, while I sat back
with a beer by the pool reading a book.
My mom, in-laws, and friends worked
tirelessly throughout the day preparing the beach altar, organizing dinner... (my
current flatmate Elliot carved an amazing sand tribute for us in the pouring
rain under the direction of my Mother-in-Law).
As sunset
drew near the rain stopped, our family and friends gathered and we said our
vows in front of a Thai priest who spoke little English.
We were
then surprised with a few lanterns, releasing them into the night sky over paradise. One flame even looked like a heart. Oooohh, romantic.
And fireworks! Not just your corner store fireworks. But full scale, holy shit,
fireworks. All the hotel guests came out to watch and cheer. I think we should
have charged them to get some of our money back for the trip overseas.
I managed not to cry that day, but was overjoyed with the gathering of family and friends
from all over the world.
That being said, even
in our wedding bliss, there were signs that it wasn't going to last.
Here are
my top ten signs it ain't gonna work:
1)You argue every vacation
2)You fight more than you laugh
3)The tree you plant on the
beach on your wedding day gets swept away by a wave as you're planting it.
4)You tell her the song 'Collide' by Howie Day is "our song"
5)The male and female cats you
each brought into the relationship never did learn to along
6)Her happiest times with you
are when your both too busy to hang
7)You debate whether it's been 3
or 6 months since the "last time"
8)You have an argument on your
wedding night
9)She tells you she doesn't
respect you
10) When you start running out of
excuses to make it work
All that
being said there are hundreds, if not thousands, of things I will miss about
this amazing woman.
Here are a mere ten:
1)Her laugh
2)Her "Upper
Australian" accent
3)The way she danced when she
didn't think anyone was paying attention
4)Falling asleep on my lap
whilst my legs fell asleep
5)Being able to be my 'real'
self around her (or perhaps that was my downfall - haha)
6)Our future dreams, our future
children
7)The walks to, and Sunday
breakfasts
8)Waking up next to her
9)Her belief in the goodness of
others
10) Her lips
Do I
think I could have changed anything? Perhaps. I made some REALLY stupid
mistakes.
Would I
do it all over with her again even knowing it wouldn't last. HELL YEAH!
Although
we had some terrible times, and a tragic end, I learned so much about myself.
My likes, my dislikes, my limitations.
One minute with her at our best, shadowed
the months of us at our worst.
My only
regret? Other than us not working out, it would have to be not taking that dance
class together. She was oh so beautiful when she danced.
So since we're still legally married, and if by some far off chance she's reading this,
Ladies, here’s a hint for you:
If you are of the female persuasion and are considering some
“dickhead’ reform, look no further than the guy reading a book sitting at your
local coffee shop, or your “dickhead’s” attractive friend who doesn’t feel the
need to show everyone how tough he is, but rather shows the strength of his
character instead. 
