This isn’t edited, sorry about the mouth noise. Just fast forward when you hear silence, or be patient. 🙂
Tomorrow is Matt’s 18th Birthday …
🥳 Happy Birthday Baby! 🥳
… Now get the fuck out!
I’m going to start a new trend … the Sitting-on-Toilet selfie, with the caption, “This is why I’m hot!” Or “This is how I relax!” Or …
Who Needs Travel to Escape
Toilet Selfie Poetry
Refresh and Rejuvenate
Don’t worry about
Missing a flight
Or packing light
Shine your toilet bowl
Bright white
Before taking a shite
Question of the Day: If they speak Indonesian in Indonesia, why don’t they speak Indian in India? Why is life so complicated? Am I stupid?
I realize that’s more than one question, but it’s the first question that counts.
Dating In Toronto
Yesterday, I went on a date, and I left feeling really awful about myself during and after. Technically, it wasn’t even a date; it was a quick meeting. I told him I wasn’t attracted to him because he was too short. I think I spent time trying to convince myself that since the conversation was great, I could overlook his height, but I know now I cannot. We spent over six hours on the phone one day.
Conversations with him reminded me of the guy I used to date out in Rochester – we got along so well, but I couldn’t get over his height, and he was 5′ 4″! This time, I felt like maybe that was a one-time thing, and I could be with someone short if we vibe verbally. But no! That’s a HARD NO!!! Which makes me shallow and superficial, yes?
And when he told me he was 5’8″, I was like, That’s a full 4.25 inches taller than me. It should be fine. HARD NO!!! We met in the mall at Shephard and Yonge … I basically wasted his time, and I was late because I underestimated how long it would take for me to get ready. Usually, I like to plan my dates when I’m already outside.
Anyheight … I took my shallow, superficial ass to The Keg after we parted ways.
Why did I spend time trying to convince myself of something different from what I already knew? Why? When dating in Toronto, height is now officially a deal breaker for me. I say Toronto because maybe foreign short men might appeal to me. But maybe not! UGH! Even saying it makes me feel awful. But it’s true. I will not deny it or try to downplay it and end up in a disaster and make the other person (and myself) feel shitty.
I’m not dating anybody shorter than my boys!
I can’t do below Five Eleven!
Hm! How tall is Satan?
You might as well be a midget!
(I’m going to hell, but I like it there, so it’s okay!)
One more story: I was supposed to meet this guy; we have been talking for a few weeks and met once already. We had initially planned for Saturday, but then he had to do emergency work shit, so I suggested Sunday instead, and he seemed to be alright with it. He messaged me around 3:40 AM but I was sleeping.
I get back to him Sunday morning around 10 AM, and when I didn’t hear from him, I figured he was still sleeping. So I did a buncha shit and went back to nap – woke up again at approximately 1:30 PM, and I messaged something like,
Hey, are you still sleeping!?
Grrr!
I don’t hear from this muthafucka till around 9:30 PM, and all he says is …
Hey, what's up. I just got my phone
Seeing his text, I think, What the fuck is wrong with this guy!? We were supposed to meet, and that’s all you have to say? We had a minor misunderstanding, via two exchanges so I texted him back …
You asked me what's up, and I'm telling you nothing's up because it's too late now
He responded with two emojis, an IDK 🤷🏾 and a UPTHUMB 👍🏾 Then I replied with an OK and an I’m done with you (but I only said that second part to myself.) We had plans, and all you can say is Hey, what’s up. I just got my phone. No explanation, no sorry? Fuck you then!
Monday came and went. I didn’t hear from him, and he did NOT hear from me! But he heard me. You hear me? Then, on Tuesday evening around 6:00 PM, I’m waiting for my writing friend outside a Starbucks in Pickering, and I get a message from him …
psssst
Get the fuck outta here! I don’t reply. Then, about 30 minutes later, he calls. I didn’t answer, because I’m done with this muthafucka and his games. But I sent him a text,
I'm taking a course, I'll call you when I get a break or on my way home
That nigga didn’t hear from me. I don’t play games. I’m straight up, probably to a fault, some would say, but if you wanna play games, I’ll play back?
You don’t know me nigga!
Sam – The Original Game Playa. Playa!
I invented game!
Ain’t nothin special bout you muthafucka
there’s millions of men who act like you
You a dime a thousand. Bitch!
Imma put you in yr place!
I feel an angry poem coming on!
I don’t believe it’s unreasonable for me to expect an explanation. If I had plans with someone and didn’t/couldn’t reply on the day of, I’d say sorry and explain what happened. It’s the right/respectful thing to do, but knowing the little I know of him, he probably feels he doesn’t have to explain himself to me because he’s a man – a strong, few words, and fewer emojis type of man. I don’t want that kind of man in my life.
I will tell you about the Pickering Libary Writing Course another time, or never.
Thu Mar 21
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