Brothers

So I think I have mentioned my brothers briefly in previous posts. However, they are both such strange, unusual and interesting specimens of the male species, that I feel as though they may deserve a larger mentioning. They are both younger than me, and they are both complelely different than I am. They both know I am blogging, and their responses to my recent douchebag list are as follows:
Brother #1: "Sister, this is f*cking hilarious. You're totally weird."
Brother #2: "I'm concerned. I think your douchebag list is describing me."

So, I'm not sure why, but both of my brothers are single too. That was sarcasm, in case you didn't catch it. But they seem to have no shortage of girls on hand. It's quite disgusting. But after a conversation with brother #2 today, it got me thinking... and it really made me realize something: Men are stupid. I know I should have realized this some time about 14 years ago (whatever, I'm a little slow), but it really resonated with me today. And I don't mean stupid in a mean way, just stupid as in THEY DON'T GET IT. They are just as confused as we are. We all play games. They are mean to us to get us to like them. They don't call back to keep us wanting more. You get the point.

So my two major learnings from my conversation with brother #2 are:

#1: I will play no games. If I don't like someone, I will tell them. If I do like them, I will tell them. I will return phone calls. I will be myself. I will be respectful and polite at all times (no matter what kind of Norberts of MILFhunters I encounter), I will not pretend to be something I am not in hopes that someone will like me more. And most importantly, I will hope that by leading by example, I will attract people of the same nature. Kind of a tall order, hey?

#2. Maybe I need to stop being such a stick in the mud and use some of their tactics. I mean, brother #2 has three dates this weekend with three different girls. He says there's no better way to get to know what you really want in a partner. He says, "it's all about options." He also thinks the zombies are about to invade, so maybe I should be careful about how seriously I take his advice.

Regardless, brothers are awesome. I think having men in your life is important. Having strong male figures to look up to is so valuable. Guy friends are great (except when you're cursed like I am, and they fall in love with you), and having brothers and dads who are honest and upfront is incredible. And knowing that they own firearms and will hunt down any asshole that tries to hurt me, break their legs and leave them wishing they never laid a finger on me is kind of reassuring.

They bring me back down to earth, provide those sometimes harsh doses of reality, and they keep me normal.
But really how normal could I be with brothers who fulfill almost all of the douchebag requirements?

Yikes.

Warning

I can't believe I am actually using the word "douchebag," as it is one of my most despised words in the english language. However, I feel as though my limited experience with online dating has really exposed me to a whole new realm of weirdos, assholes, pr*cks, and yes, douchebags. So I feel the need to share. Ladies, if you are seeing a man who fits into any of the following descriptions, you know what to do. Men, if one or more of the following desrcibes you, STOP. Or you may be single forever, talking about how many girls you've landed when you're 80... when you really haven't landed anything but a bad case of Erectile Dysfunction.

10 Signs You Are a Complete Douchebag

10. You liberally spray yourself with Axe Body Spray before dates. And you’re 30. Contrary to some amazing marketing tactics, there is no so-called Axe Effect from dousing yourself in this disgusting concoction. It’s going to take more than a stinky spray on deodorant to get you laid, or even get you a girlfriend.

9. You start bar fights over the best brand of protein powder. Or you start fights in general. This is not attractive, gentlemen.

8. The wallpaper or screensaver on your computer or cell phone is a naked girl. Grow up.

7. You wear Ed Hardy shirts, sunglasses at night or own anything that is bedazzled. Enough said.

6. You only watch UFC or wrestling.

5. You greet people by saying ‘sup’, or end conversations, emails, or messages with ‘peace’. Or you think proper english includes abbreviations such as 'def,' 'poss,' 'hella,' etc.

4. Your car makes more exhaust noise than a lawn mower on concrete OR you have testicles hanging off the back of your over-sized truck. I have a real problem with those testicles.

3. Your profile photo on facebook, myspace, or match.com is one of the following: the dreaded duck face (half-kiss/half-smirk atrocity), the shirtless picture taken in the bathroom mirror with your cell phone camera, any pose with your collar popped, or the less offensive but equally lame peace sign. This is about as stupid as it gets.

2. You loudly hock your spit on the sidewalk, allow doors to slam on the person walking behind you and act like a complete jerk to service staff – that makes you a douchebag PLUS an asshole. Good job. Do you want a gold star?

1. You treat girls like shit. The ultimate douche indicator.

Norbert

Chapters 2 & 3: Deadly Dating Patterns and Dating Games Men Play. Funny thing is, men have 6 more deadly dating habits/games than women do. Lucky us.

Anyways, after reading through all possible terrible dating patterns, I have determined my top 3.
1. "Just Buddies"
Warning sign: Getting dressed up and beauitful for a date makes you feel truly strange and uncomfortable, like you are not being the real you.
Story of my life. My guy friends like me. I awkwardly accept a date invitation.
The result is the equivalent of a natural disaster.
2. "Flame Out"
He is intimate, adoring and resistable from day one, and you feel out of control, like an addict who craves her fix: him!
Ok, so I may have a tendency to get a little bit carried away at the mere glimpse of potential. Is daydreaming about your bridesmaid dresses after 3 dates a little too much? Ok, I'm not THAT bad. But you get the point.
3. "Fade Away"
On dates you are not being spontaneous, quirky, or real, like you are when you hang out with your close friends.
SO been there. You see, I think I am a little weird. I feel strongly about certain things. I'm kind of a hippy. When I get stressed out, I stand on my head (it's a yoga thing), I wear flip flops when it's snowing, I think Canola Oil is the antichrist, I despise vaccines and most modern medicine, I use a Neti Pot (if you don't know what it is, look it up and you'll think I'm extra weird), and I am usually in bed by 9:30pm. See, I'm weird. So sometimes, I think I might try to hide my natural and beautiful weirdness by pretending to be someone I'm not on a date.
As helpful as my Love Guru's deadly dating pattern summary is, I really think she has missed the most crucial and relevant deadly dating situation. The one situation that plagues me the most. It's quite tragic. You see, I have a large, permanent, flashing fixture attached to my back that reads, "I LIKE FREAKS." Really, I'm not kidding. I am a weirdo magnet. And not my kind of weird, but the kind of weird that you would find at a Star Trek convention. I think I get myself into trouble because I really like to find the good qualities in people, I like to have an open mind, I like to be accepting of differences, I pride myself on being a kind, loving person. HOWEVER, I think this open minded attitude can sometimes turn dangerous. Being open minded to MILFhunters and Fatheroftheyear or Spok look-alikes is NOT a good thing.

Now, to rid myself of these deadly dating patterns. First, identify them and other secret negative beliefs. Then, write a loveless eulogy. Basically a eulogy for yourself that describes the loveless life you have led. One word, people: DEPRESSING. Not to mention humiliating... no way that one's getting posted. Now, write personal love intentions and make a commiment to yourself.

Ok, now the dating games men play. This is the good stuff... With examples like The shy Guy, The Geek, The Coward, The Peter Pan (afraid to grow up. Love it), The Trophy Seeker, The Player, or my personal favourite... The Pr*ck, this lady is speaking my language. But now what? I have identified my issues, dealt with them, and discarded them after pleasantly writing my own freakin' eulogy, but what about all the pr*cks out there? How do I deal with them?

As Carrie Bradshaw once said, "The fact is, sometimes it's really hard to walk in a single woman's shoes. That's why we need really special ones now and then to make the walk a little more fun."




So I guess all we can do is look hot, wear special shoes, and watch out for the pr*cks.

PS. I got a match.com message today from a guy named Norbert. Can you imagine yelling that name in bed?

Random Thought

So I read an article the other day about how Calgary is one of the most difficult places in Canada to be single. Apparently most of the men in Calgary are too into themselves to make an effort to impress girls and instead sit around waiting for girls to come to them. And maybe girls do the same sometimes. So really, we are all just sitting around thinking we are too good to talk to anybody, but nobody is talking to us, so we are all miserable. Awesome.

As I was driving to work this morning, I started thinking about this article and it really got me thinking about men in Calgary. Does Calgary have a "type" of guy? Does location play a big part in the type of people you meet? What are Calgarian men like?

As I was pondering the existence of my potential future Calgarian husband, a jackass in a horrendous, gas-guzzling, environmental atrocity of a pick up truck cuts me off. As I clench my steering wheel and glare at the back of his truck, what is staring back at me? A pair of balls. WHY, WHY do men hang balls on the back of their trucks? They look disgusting. That's the same thing as women having a pair of tits protruding off of the back bumper of their compact SUV. Like, really? Sure, you're really manly when you hang your own man parts from the back of your manly truck. I think it was the universe telling me I might have a hard time meeting the Mr. Right in the city of Mr. Testicles.




My conclusion:
If you have to hang balls on the back of your vehicle, it means you don't have any balls in real life.

Homework Follow Up

I'm quite proud of myself, I'm not going to lie.

Assignment #1- not going so well. I'm thinking I might try the sports route with this one. Maybe tennis lessons or a rock climbing class. Then again, these settings are prime opportunity for my clumsiness to shine and ample embarassment to ensue. Nothing like sustaining a sports-related injusry in front of my potential future husband.

Assignment #2- Talking to three new men everyday... this is WAY scarier than I thought it would be. And it's actually really hard! I mean, what kind of a conversation starter is appropriate for the Starbucks line up? A synopsis of my first day of saying hi to three new men: Man #1: Good looking, well dressed (a little too well dressed), tall. AND he was shopping at Community Natural Foods. In the salad dressing aisle. ALL very good signs. Good salad dressing is a staple in any refridgerator. So I stand beside him awkwardly pretending to be looking at olive oils. And because I'm incredibly lame, I point to the dressing he's holding and say, "That's a great one." Like, really? That's all I could come up with? Whatever, I was proud that I was actually even able to form a sentence. He responds extremely enthusiastically. Surprisingly. He then tells me it's his boyfriends favourite. Oops. I knew his khakis, loafers, argyle sweater vest and designer sunglasses were too good to be true. Man #2: Crash and burn. Said hi in the line up at Purple Perk (my fave coffee place). I made some small talk about the weather. He responded, laughed, got his coffee and that was about it. I wanted to nudge him and encouragingly whisper, "Buddy, this is where you tell me I'm the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on and ask me for my phone number!" Man #3: Hottie in the elevator. GREAT conversation. Lives on the floor below me (not a good thing, but whatever, we can still chat). Pulls his hand from his pocket to take off his sunglasses aaaaaand.... WEDDING RING. Sweet.

Assignment #3- Ok, I didn't host a party, but I went to a great one! Met some wonderful people and heard some amazing live music. Not really prime opportunity to meet a man though. Plus, all of my "saying hi" encounters had exhasuted me. By this point, I was happy just to chill with my friends.

Assignment #4- (Insert creepy, climactic music here)... ONLINE DATING. Dear God. This is interesting. Ok, let me start with a few tips for anyone planning on creating an online profile.
1. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT take a shirtless picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror with the camera on your cell phone and use this as your profile picture. Creepy basement pictures of you holding your cat taken with a webcam are equally as horrifying.
2. User names like HOCKEYfan, Muscleman, slysexystud or Fatheroftheyear do NOT attract intelligent, good-looing, single woman. HOCKEYfan means you are too absorbed in some neanderthal sport to peel yourself away from the television for one minute to pay attention to me. Muscleman means you're conceited and are overcompensating in the muscle department for a lack of size in another department. Slysexystud means you're probably NOT sexy and you are trouble, pure trouble. And Fatheroftheyear means your kids are your top priority and there's no hope in hell of me ever competing for that spot.
3. EVERYONE claims they are handsome, easy-going and funny. Be a little more original. Seriously.
4. Please take 5 minutes to proofread your profile before you finalize it. Spelling errors, punctuation flaws and poor grammer in general are not a good thing. I mean, I won't even give your profile a second glance if you don't know the difference between their, they're and there.
5. Be yourself. Stop trying so hard. Oh and one more thing. We're not idiots. When you say you're loooking for a woman that takes good care of herself, we know that means you don't want a fatty. Thanks.




Anyways, it's only Saturday night... I'm sure I will have many more man encounters before the weekend is over.

One onservation that I do have- it seems like the sunshine brings out all the lookers. It's weird. Driving down 17th today, there was hotties everywhere! They must hibernate in the winter.

Yikes..

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I'm THAT girl

I’ve got it all together. I look good on paper. I’m a good person. Responsible, reliable, considerate and caring. Not repulsive looking. You know, the usually crap. But I’m single.

My friends are getting married and having babies, my grandparents are starting to wonder if there’s any hope of seeing my down the aisle before they bite the dust, and my lovely, incredible mother is telling me that guys must be intimidated by me because I’m too beautiful. Gotta love moms.

Anyways, I’m technologically challenged, and to tell you the truth, this whole blog thing is still a little over my head. I mean, it took me about an hour and half to figure out the basics of editing my profile. I know, shameful. So then you might be thinking… for such a technology loser, what prompted the blog? And on top of that, I’M thinking...who do I think I am? Why is my life so exciting that people would actually read about it???

Here’s the truth. My life is not really that exciting. And the blog idea was prompted by the combination of a few things; the universe working in mysterious ways. The first incident: two Sundays ago, my mother and I are aimlessly wandering through the aisles of Superstore. Well, not totally aimlessly… I needed Brita filters. We get stuck in the book section and stumble upon this rather cheesy looking book, “Love in 90 Days – The Essential Guide to Finding Your Own True Love.” I laugh. This is NOT the kind of book that I usually read. My mom reads the synopsis on the back cover out loud, chuckles, throws it into her basket, and exclaims, “This could be it, my dear!” Quite the comedian. So there we are standing in the self check-out at Superstore at 10pm with a self-help book about finding true love, Brita filters, and Mini Eggs.

I got home and started thinking… if the contents of this book are anything like the title, this whole experience is going to be a freakin’ riot. Throw in a few extra ingredients: my clumsy demeanour, sometimes awkward sense of humour and impeccable ability to embarrass myself, and there it is folks, a blog! Here it is- weekly accounts of my experiences as I follow my 90 day protocol, partake in the “Meet a Man” assignments, get dating tips from my girlfriends, humourus pep-talks from my mother, abrasive and harsh reality checks from my brothers, and deal with all of the little daily adventures of single life.

I’m reading chapter one before I go to bed. Here goes nothing.