Remember Brad? Of course you don’t. Let me refresh your memory.

Back when I was online dating in 2012-2014, I went on a stranger-than-fiction date with Brad, putting myself in a situation where I could easily have been raped, but luckily that wasn’t Brad’s particular fetish (for the entire saga, click this link). I’ve wisened up a lot since then.

Brad, however, is a persistent dude. Every 9-12 months he resurfaces, sending me an email asking how I am doing. Most recently, today.

Where are you???

Happy New Year!

Y’all. Our date was in May 2013. Almost 5 years ago. Why? Why is he still trying, albeit not very hard? He takes the whole “Minimum Possible Investment” notion to a whole new level!

No, I’ve never emailed him back since our date. And no, this is definitely not how I anticipated my first blog post of 2018 to be.



The art of giving up

Back in 2013-2014 I did a lot of online dating. Here’s a list of the most memorable disasters. I’ve seen and done it all: OkCupid, POF, Tinder, Match.com, eHarmony… (Incidentally, POF is WAY sketchier than Tinder.) Online dating does NOT work for me.

In May 2013, I struck up a convo with Brad on POF. He did martial arts, was a good-looking Texan, recently moved to Mtl. (I’ve since learned that is a red flag: they are catfishing. Trying to play on the girl’s sympathy “oooh poor baby, you must be lonely, why don’t you put your penis inside me?”) He was articulate, witty, taller than me, responsive. Foundations for a marriage, really. After a few days of excellent banter, I agreed to meet up. That is when the weird started.

We agreed to meet up at a given restaurant for a late supper, around 9:30pm on a Friday night. The day of, he switched the plans: he wanted to meet at his hotel (seeing as he had recently moved to Mtl). He then proposed that instead of going to the restaurant, we could enjoy the hotel jacuzzi. I told him that I didn’t typically go for that kind of activity on the first date. He pressured. Summoning all of my assertiveness, I explained that I prefer meeting strange men in public areas, for safety reasons. He apologized. Of course, we could meet in the lobby, and go to the restaurant – he just hoped the restaurant wouldn’t be too noisy.

I showed up at the hotel 5 minutes late – on time, really. The lobby was empty. I messaged Brad “I’m here!” He told me to come up to his room. I playfully responded: no. He issued an ultimatum: if I didn’t have the bravery to come up to his room, I wasn’t the kind of girl he wanted to date.

Disclaimer: I’m very aware that I should have just bailed. I’m pretty sure that if the same thing were to happen to me today, I’d walk out, not even bothering to write back. But at the time I was naive and bemused by the turn of events, and couldn’t resist seeing how fucked-up the night would turn out.

As I took the elevator up to his room, I wondered if I was about to get raped or murdered. I figured that as we were in a pretty upscale hotel, he couldn’t be too messy – because, of course, a rapist would refrain from raping someone for the sake of keeping a fancy hotel room clean. He opened the door: a little taller than me, with a slight build – just big enough that he could probably overpower me. He smiled charmingly and asked for a hug. Too confused by what was happening, I gave him one, and then took a chair while he sat on the bed. He wanted to know why I wouldn’t sit with him on the bed. I told him the view was too lovely to resist. He wanted to know why I was so reserved. I waspishly explained that intimacy must be earned, not forced. He lectured me about psychology (because of course, he was an expert in psychology. That is another red flag in the online dating world: guys love to pretend they are psychologists, specializing in sex therapy. Often they just happen to be personal trainers. They share unsolicited stories about how their married, sexy, scantily-clad female clients moan with pleasure at the perfect amount of pressure being applied on their bodies during stretching sessions, and before they know it, these women just beg for rough sex. Yup this is a thing. Must have come across 20 different guys who shared this same story with me.) He asked me again to lie down on the bed with him. At this point, I’d assessed him to be a pathetic guy without any violent tendencies who got off on making women uncomfortable, so to shut him up, and move the story along, I got on the bed.

Honestly, I am amazed I made it this far in life without getting raped.

We talked a bit more, till I reminded him I was starving, and it was time to eat. He seemed disappointed our tête-à-tête was ending, I pretended not to notice, because nothing gets in the way of me and food.

Our time at the restaurant was unremarkable. Conversation was ok, until he asked me to go back to the hotel with him. I refused. “We don’t have to have sex.” Yeah, right. “No, its about getting to know each other.” Again, yeah right. “I’m serious. If you aren’t willing to show that you are committed to us getting to know each other, what is the point of dating?” Buddy, I can get to know you over a few weeks, it’s ok. “No! Best do it as fast as possible, so that if we realize we aren’t compatible, I’ve wasted the least number of days on you, and I can find someone else.” Wow, ok. For an expert in psychology, you seem to have a very bizarre approach to getting to know people.

I asked for the cheque, and while I paid my share, he asked me one last time, “Are you SURE you won’t come back with me? I think you are making a mistake.” Yes. SO SURE.


3 years have gone by since I did not get raped by Brad.

HE STILL EMAILS ME. Every 3-6 months, replying to the same Gmail thread. Sometimes I answer, mostly I don’t. Sometimes he sends me news articles and asks for my opinion. Other times, like today, he merely asks, “what’s up stranger?






So sexy – I’ll never online date ever again

My no-love/hate relationship with online dating apps has been extensively documented on this blog. But just in case, here is a refresher of some of the top incidents:

To summarize, my experience with online dating has been overwhelmingly negative: a dehumanizing experience, where guys and girls treat each other as commodities, and basic manners are non-existent. Long before Beaut came into the picture, I’d disactivated all my profiles online except for Tinder, which I kept as a source of entertainment and blog material: my guy friends loved impersonating me and trying their luck during booze-fuelled evenings. During the holidays, I deleted Tinder, to free up space on my phone. Haven’t missed it one bit.

I miss it even less having read this article, which states that Tinder has added a health section to its app, including a function that allows users to identify the nearest STD clinic to their location. Now THAT really sets the tone for romantic sexy times.

(…) Medical experts warned the surge in popularity of dating and casual sex apps was fueling a rise in sexually transmitted infections.

Dr Peter Greenhouse, of the British Association for Sexual Health and HIV, said the apps could trigger an ‘explosion’ of HIV in heterosexual people. (…) he said: ‘You are able to turn over partners more quickly with a dating app and the quicker you change partners, the more likely you are to get infections. What really worries me is that we are just at a tipping point for HIV. If enough people change partners quickly, and they’ve got other untreated sexually transmitted infections, it might just start an explosion of HIV in the heterosexual population. Apps could do that’.

Experts also warned that apps such as Tinder have made casual sex as available as ordering takeout.


I’m NEVER online dating again. Being treated as a commodity AND putting my health at risk? No thanks. I’ll go the old-fashioned route of meeting people in real life, depending on friends and serendipity.






I quit! (online dating)

Remember Daniel from Tinder? Of course you do. How could you forget such attuned listening skills?! Well, against my better judgment, after listening to a lecture from my 23 year old cousin about how I am too quick to write people off, I decided to give him a few extra chances. That resulted in a planned ice-cream date last night. He messaged me during the day, to confirm we were still on, but volunteered the information that he was lactose intolerant and didn’t like ice cream as it didn’t fit with his diet goals. I did think he might be Patrick Bateman, but figured a date with American Psycho would be good blog content.

Unfortunately, the date never materialized: 


Daniel either is the most socially-incompetent person ever (which, as the rest of my post will demonstrate, I highly doubt given the quality of his competition) or else he is one of those people that delights in gratuitously upsetting others. I took a bit too long to unmatch myself from him on Tinder, and so he had time to pile on a few additional venomous shots, such as, “I acknowledge my behavior to you was strange but I really had enjoyed seeing her the first time and was looking forward to seeing her a second time” and “Don’t get angry just because you got stood up and your ego took a hit.” Words to live by, oh wise one. I hope the ice cream gives him a bad case of diarrhea and stinky farts.

“But wait”, y’all say. “Don’t give up just because you stumbled upon one bad apple”. Perhaps y’all think that the problem is that I am on Tinder, renowned for being primarily a hookup facilitator. Perhaps my prospects would improve on other dating sites?

Behold, my top pics from Plenty Of Fish, from this weekend alone.

So cheesy, I developed temporary constipation of the heart. 


Another example of my pet peeve (described here and here). 


And the top nominee for Worst First Impression Ever.  


You guys, I just can’t. I can’t handle online dating. I can’t handle constantly steeling myself from whatever abuse or poor treatment will be thrown at me, minutes from logging on. I don’t like the bitch I become, as I try protect myself from these virtual insults, which shouldn’t bother me, but do. 

I’ll take remaining single and lonely over online dating any day. Prince Charming might be out there, but godammit, I’m done hunting through the pig-pens, looking for him.


Nope, still annoyed

Y’all remember my rant about gender bias in the online dating world, and how my biggest pet peeve is the comments and speculations made about my presumed anger management and violence issues, arising from the fact that I am an amateur boxer? It generated a lot of feedback, not least from my plethora of fighting friends. Unsurprisingly, several people told me I overreacted and needed to take a chill pill. Chief amongst those was my Coach (accurately described here and here): he suspects that I have a double-standard, and what annoys me in someone I don’t find attractive is something I’d tolerate in someone I find lustworthy. Fair concept, and I’ll admit that I do tend to give 2nd and 3rd chances to hotties-with-the-bodies; but to my credit, I am remarkably consistent in my ability to get annoyed.

No matter how drool-worthy the guy, this shit pisses me off. 


It turns out common sense and good manners get me much more hot and bothered than a pretty face.


I do so love being called a racist. Turns me on!

In case I haven’t made it clear that online dating is a hazardous activity, let me share with you an interaction from this morning:


For those of you who do not speak French, here is a quick translation:
@9:10am: “Hello”
@9:15am: “Answer please, just chat, nothing more. I can be interesting, one never knows.”
@9:30am: “You don’t like talking to black people. I must be bothering you”

Apart from the obvious irony that I am prone to flirt/chat/date guys who are not white-Caucasians (as described here and here), something which I’ve decided to not share with the above Prince Charming, I am having trouble moving past this little incident.

This is why I hate online dating – it is an unwritten contract that by subscribing to these apps as a girl, I am agreeing to have all kinds of insults, ranging from rude sexual propositions to accusations of racism, thrown at me, JUST BECAUSE I WASN’T FLATTERED BY BEING ADDRESSED BY THESE GUYS.

I can’t even explain how mad this makes me.