wtf

#slay

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.

#thisiswhyimsingle

#whytho

This is not at all the post I thought I was going to write

I thought I was going to write a light-hearted post about the trials and tribulations of having the first cold of the season – a rant about my decrepit health in old age. The betrayal of my body when I fed it a steady diet of butter, wine and one veggie over the weekend. Make a joke about how I am blowing my nose so often that I am getting an ab workout. Insert the meme about how “when I get a blocked nose, I fully sit and think about the times when my nose wasn’t blocked and how I took it for granted”. Maybe slide in a reference to Trump’s sniffles.

But then I googled “blocked nose meme”, and really, is there anything else that needs to be said?

Now I know. WebMD tried to tell me my symptoms were typical of nose cancer, but really, I just got raped by a ghost with a nose-fetish. What a relief!!!

#theinternetisabizarreplace

#wtf

#seriouslythomynoseisred

#abworkoutftw

Shit just got real, blogging style

As sometimes happens, a reader of my blog will reach out to me. Some missives are impertinent (read the psychoanalysis one dude gave me here), some are short messages of sympathy/humour/encouragement, some are declarations of the heart. When I first received fan mail, I freaked out. How could my little ramblings inspire such effort on behalf of strangers? Since then, I’ve grown comfortable with receiving unsolicited messages – it is a sign that my stories, although personal, trade on emotions and insecurities that are shared by my readers. My stories are relatable.

Yesterday I went for dinner with a male reader of mine. He was a stranger – meaning he is not part of my circle of existing friends or acquaintances that follow my blog. He’d found my blog via a Google search, and struck up an email correspondence with me that was witty and amusing. Over the weeks he became a faithful reader. His insights are interesting and thought provoking; he was a fan and critic of my writing. He asked that we meet up because he wanted to share his own personal dating trainwreck story, and thought it might prove to be inspiring material for a story – if not for my blog, for a short story that we could collaborate on. He’d long been encouraging me to take my writing more seriously (according to him, I’m “wasted on numbers”), and knew that all I lack is the inspiration or material to try something more substantial than blogging. I therefore accepted to meet him – what did I stand to lose?

We met in a trendy restaurant for drinks and tapas. No more awkward than one of the many blind dates that I’ve been on.

Hi! So happy you agreed to meet up! Nice to meet you. Sorry I am two minutes late – I was printing a non-disclosure agreement.

Ummmm, what?

A non-disclosure agreement. I apologize, my printer was running out of ink, so it doesn’t look very good. There are some striations. And I didn’t have time to modify it, so I just took the standard template. It is legally binding. Would you mind signing?

You know those social situations where you are so shocked, you can’t help but laugh? Yeah, this was one of those situations. Boy, did I laugh, and laugh, and laugh. And giggle as I read carefully all two pages of the NDA.

That’s the end of my post, y’all. I’m legally bound to discretion.

P.S. I can’t help but feel that my street cred as a writer is growing every day. First Strawberry, and now this. What are the odds?!