STAGE FIVE

just three girls, blogging about their dates, one comedic event at a time

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Número siete

Although 67% of you won’t actually admit it, we all know we have done the “thing” (the “thing” being online dating). I am not saying that it is terrible and should not be done, a lot of people do meet their “forever” people on these so called dating sites, just didn’t happen for this bitch… I have probably been on more dating sites than the average male, just trying to find “the one” and have never had any luck. Maybe it is because of the kinds of guys on the sites, or realistically it is because I am TERRIFIED of meeting with someone I met online. Why, you might ask? I seriously have no idea, but what I do know is it did make for some pretty funny stories. The cycle usually went something like this….

1. Match on whatever 2. Talk 3. Exchange numbers (since I didn’t want to use my data) 4. Talk 5. Guy would ask to go out 6. I panic 7. We stop talking, nothing ever happened

It was all me and I am well aware of that. Just one of the weird things that makes me, me. Until I met this guy, let’s name him…. Alex. Alex was so kind, funny and extremely cute. We chatted for a while all day, every day while I was on vacation. He was amazing, and although I still had my fear of meeting with someone I met online, I was making the jump with him and we scheduled a date. We had a few different dates lined up but each one of them seemed to have fallen through. Let me tell you, I am a pretty smart cookie so when I didn’t realize what he was doing until the third time I was definitely mad at myself. He had been cancelling for the stupidest reasons: “Going to adopt a dog (he never did)” or “My car broke down (it actually did, but sounds like a personal issue)”

Oh, the broken down car… this one is a solid one. It was just a normal Monday night in my life, the kind where you spend the night in bed watching Netflix and eating whatever the hell you can find that’s edible. 11 minutes into an episode of the Mindy Project and guess who calls my phone… ALEX. Ex-squeeze me? I think my heart stopped for a solid 3 minutes, holding my phone like it was an object on fire I threw it across the room. Two minutes later when I got my life together, I gave him a call back. He was on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere with broken down car, poor guy. SIKE. I talked to him on the phone for 45 seconds and then hung up, it was then I realized I was sweatier than a sea otter from having to talk to this guy on the phone.

To wrap this up, a few days later we had a coffee date planned to finallllyyyy meet…after not replying to my text from the night before, I texted him mid-morning to confirm our plans. Nothing… and then one more juuuussssssttttt in case he did not receive my earlier one. Nada, nothing, rien. It was that moment exactly where I realized I was stupid, he was doing this all along! Oh well, he played golf, did I really lose on this one? I had this whole thing stored in my long term memory of my brain since it was of no use to me anymore, until I posted my most recent Instagram post (straight fire, btw). Scrolling through the likes and then there it was… HE LIKED IT. A moment of anger later, I wrote it off as “he’s an ass”.

In the end, I won ‘cause I still got that like tho ;)

Your neighbourhood good girl, Ava xoxo

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Número Seis - Sleeping Beauty

Alice here, still fab and fresh. Giving out second chances as often as you stalk your ex’s social media platforms (aka too often). The usual. 

Every time I think it can’t get any worse it always does. Solution? Never have that thought. Always be on your toes and ready for anything to come your way. I had to learn that one the hard way, more than once. Hopefully you don’t have to, nuggets. 

There was once a guy not all too long ago that I temporarily gave up my roster for (extremely temporary). I know this sounds like it’s not real life, but trust me it is. I must have been experiencing short-term bout of insanity. I was subsequently ghosted by said male, and (almost simultaneously) became extremely popular with the roster members I had ghosted all in a very short period of time. Crazy right!? Almost like it was meant to be or whatever.

Let me segue into the story by letting you know that he had no right to ghost me. We had a lovely time the first time we ever got together after the bar. We were the funniest people on this earth I swear, and the sex was pretty bomb too I’d have to say. Not to mention he obviously couldn’t resist because I was born to SLAY. So it came as no surprise to me that a week or so later he wanted some more. Dis bitchacho can’t say no to a good time, or even potential good time (#FOMO).

All was great and well, we got down to business – hot just like the previous rendezvous (because I’m not a returning customer if I’m given poor service). And then all of a sudden he fell asleep right at the crux, quicker than you can say coitus. WTF DUDE!?!?!?

 Okay okay, I get it. We had been drinking and it was really late, it was also a Friday so like there was work and stuff involved beforehand…yadda yadda yadda…. Whatever.

 However, all of this was taken into account the next weekend when I had another opportunity to go back to his place. Like I said, second chances. I gave into the potential of having a great time. Get there and buzz up to his apartment, no answer. Maybe his phone is on silent? Maybe he’s in the bathroom? Buzz again. No answer. Text him. No answer. Continue this cycle for approximately 20 minutes. Seventeen missed calls and 867 text messages later, got an Uber back home. #pissed.

He texts the next morning to apologize, incredibly sincere (because this guy is kind enough for you to give up your roster). You accept and understand, it was incredibly late. Whatever.

 Another week went by, and somehow I found myself back at his place again. Third time’s the charm, right!? WRONG. So wrong. Couldn’t be more wrong. WHO FALLS ASLEEP TWICE IN A ROW!?!? Don’t even try to say “it’s probably you, Alice”, because, apart from the fact that I’m extremely vivacious, I KNOW I’m a decent lay. You don’t get a roster full of 10s if you’re a 2 in bed mmkay. He has a problem.

Homeboy ‘bout to get cut from the team.

Nuggets, avoid sleepers at all costs. Feed him coffee beforehand. Do literally anything to keep his eyes open and his dick hard.

xoxo I’d love to, but I have to wash my hair that day. -Alice

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Wearing your heart on your... mantle?

So, everyone has that ONE cringey date that sticks out in there mind. Whether they don’t look like you thought they would, or they smell weird, or maybe it turns out they are a soccer fan *barf.* I can nearly guarantee you that I now have what is THE most cringe date story of all time. Not because it was crazy bad at the time or anything, I mean he was weird, but that was whatever because he was tall #classicAnna. So, homeboy was tall, blue eyed, and seemed to have some similar interests to me. For context, this date occurred after the longest celibate dating spree I had had in my life. Physiotherapist was BAD with his anatomy folks, and that rubbed me in more than just one wrong way. Anyways, this was a date, set up through the wonders of the 21st century online dating pool. So, I go, we meet at a small coffee shop wherein we decide to go for a walk around town and talk. This is when things started to seem a little weird. He ran an antique business, which is cool, but he also worked at a clothing retailer and lived at home. Okay, not horrible, but less than ideal. He told me he drove a truck and he wanted to live in a tiny house. Okay, not a deal breaker, but kind of gross. Then came the whammy, he was into taxidermy. This super fun fact comes out after I told him there was a dead goose on the road when I was driving to the date. He asked where so he could go pick it up and get it stuffed. What. The. Fuck. I left the date kindly, and called a friend. Now, the joke is “don’t get turned into a lampshade” or, “make sure he doesn’t taxidermy you.” Well, while telling this story to a date last night, he asked, where is he now? I began to wonder and said I would look him up (even though I couldn’t remember his name) while my date went to the washroom. What I found, is 100% THE most messed story I have ever found. He was convicted several months ago of some crazy sexual assault charges. Now, I don’t want to demean the story, because this is a serious topic and as women we are often subjected to sexual assault, BUT the moral of the story is, if he’s into dead stuff, don’t go. Leave immediately. Then don’t look up past dates while on a date, because if it was bad then, there seems to be a strong likelihood that it’s even worse now. Anyways, don’t get turned into a lampshade trying to find a lover, unless he turns up with a lampshade made of money, then take it and run. xoxo call me beep me if you wanna reach me (unless you intend to wear my skin as a suit),

Anna

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Número Quatro

Is it wrong that I assume a date is over when we finish dinner? I guess I have been so used to going to bed at 1600 that anything after 2200 seems like an ungodly hour to be out. Also doesn't help that I was suffering from the plague and probably the flu. But let's be honest, being sick does not change a thing other than me being able to (still & acceptingly) dodge a kiss. Of course we have all had the conversation with ourselves about what foods are appropriate to eat in front of your date for obvious reasons (not looking like a deranged giraffe), and then you have a mental idea of what you can appropriately order. Well, I threw all that out the window when I agreed to have the soup sent from the God's called Pho. I would like to offer a very generous reward of $38.64 and a box of Timbits to the person that can start & finish a bowl of pho solely with chopsticks. So, after failing miserably not only in front of the date but also the entire restaurant, my date graciously asked for an actual utensil for me to finish my meal (otherwise we seriously would have been there until the next High School Musical was produced). I keep telling myself that 2017 needs to be filled with adventures and crazy stories, so when he suggested an after dinner activity, how could I resist? As I got dropped off at the end of the evening, I realized that it wasn't even that late and that it was an awesome night filled with coughing fits, laughter and the sharing of slightly embarrassing stories (but always remember that you should never reveal you're really embarrassing stories until you are married for at least three and a half years, universal rule). That's all for this time, farewell my loves! Your neighborhood good girl, Ava xoxo

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Número Tres - Drowning in Sorrow

Alice here, still loving life. Testing out prospective roster members. The usual.

So we’ve all had those dates that are evenings, that turn into nights, that turn into mornings, right? (I myself attend a limited number of actual dates). It’s no big deal, maybe you knew the person beforehand, maybe you work together (ahem.. bad habit..), maybe this is your first time meeting in person (it happens). One way or another, he ended up in your bed, and it was a pretty good time (or maybe it wasn’t, but that’s another story, plz stick to this one).

And then it’s the morning, and you’re reflecting back on the night. Thinking about how well you got along, how you have the same sense of humour, and how you actually had a decent time (for once). But now it’s the morning, and while all of that stuff is fine and dandy, a bed to yourself sounds pretty damn good too (like plz stop touching me).

He makes no moves to leave, and then all of a sudden it’s late in the afternoon and he’s still there. Dude. What the actual fuck. Do you not understand how this works?? You’re supposed to LEAVE in the morning. STAGE 27.

So you think oh well whatever I don’t want to be rude, let’s just chill. Later on in the evening you fall asleep (because how much sleep did you really get the night before). Still cuddling because he won’t stop touching you, even if his life depended on it (no, seriously).

From personal experience, this is an extremely bad idea. When I woke up, my forehead was EXTREMELY sweaty and his face was touching it. So I was like omg ew gross wipe it off before he notices. Reached up to my forehead, and there was WAY more sweat than I thought (my entire forehead was like Niagara Falls), so maybe he’s sweating too, no big deal right? (But like at the same time I’d rather be skiing with a broken ankle). And then you really start wiping it away, observing that it seems fairly viscous compared to typical sweat…….

Look up, and see the drool trail from the corner of his mouth like the Amazon river.

It’s all over. You didn’t make the cut. 

20:00, gtfo. 

Sorry not sorry. 

I beg you not to call me maybe.

No advice on that one nuggets. -      Alice

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Chronicling backwards

Let’s get things straight: I am arguably the least lucky person in this city, maybe province. With that said, I am also an eternal optimist. So, a recipe for outlandish scenarios is what my life has rested upon for many, many years. Each time I think I couldn’t possibly out-do myself, and things couldn’t get any worse, they do. Setting myself up for disaster voluntarily? Possibly. Waiting for prince charming, still? Yes (in this scenario prince charming does not rescue me, because this girl don’t need no man… but would prefer a hottie hanging off my side while scurrying around sporting venues). As a little kick off, #ftb (for the blog), I decided to undertake what might possibly be the most ambitious thing I have decided to do in the dating world. I was going to hail Mary this, get back into online dating (an absolute joke and maybe the worst thing this century has to offer to us, besides Trump and Greys Anatomy kill-offs), and find myself a MAN (likely who looks young, and not like a man, because I have a CLEAR type). After the last man, who’s story will be revealed later, I am impatient to try and forget the man of my dreams that broke my heart three months ago, and get my life started again. And by life I really mean love life, because my life is pretty great otherwise. My love life though? A joke. Anyways, after carefully crafting my online profile to include exclusively good pictures of me, of which in real life I only look like maybe 7.83% of the time, I let the boys know I was smart, financially stable, into sports, and tall, all in the space of 6 pictures and 84 characters (#efficiency). So, I swiped right on potentially half of the city, or at least all of those people over 6’3”, and eligible bachelors. Just kidding, this bitchacho is picky af. So, I lined up about 35 potential suitors, sent out feelers (and by feelers I mean incredible one liners about their profiles), and waited. As the impatient person I am, I lined up three dates for one day. ONE DAY. This girl has no time to waste in finding a man. But, in typical me fashion, my Friday date (lets call him Antonio) turned into a Saturday morning date. The classic “I’ve had too many, maybe like the idea of you more than I like you, but I like having a person sleeping beside me instead of 16 stuffed animals and pillows” scenario. Maybe I just liked that he snuck me into a stadium at midnight and let me trot around in my happy place. Anyways, he stayed over. He did not want to leave… I made him leave after telling a long lie about some fake plans I had that day and pushed him out of the house after realizing I don’t date hockey players. So, at 1pm he left and I did a MAD scramble to get ready for date number two. One hour, extensions in, and a face full of makeup later, I was ready to go. Until I was late, and he told me a place that didn’t exist, and my uber driver drove me halfway around the city before I got there. 25 minutes late and I stroll in. So, date two, lets call him Brian, lasted only an hour. He might be old enough in spirit to be my Dad, so good thing it was only an hour because some of his friends were in town. He left me in a whirlwind after realizing his friends were outside. Dude was already out the door before I even stood up to say goodbye. I collected myself and left direct from that tea date to date number three. I settled in, got myself a drink and waited. Then it happened. As he walked in, I knew he lied… about his height *DUN DUN DUN*. Boy was as short as an oompa loompa (not actually, but I was the CN tower beside him and we kept getting weird looks). On this date I learned WAY too much about planes, he drove me back in his shit civic and I left, saying I would see him again, but knowing I would rather iron my face off than be with someone shorter than me again. I had just enough time at home to scarf down a whole box of pasta and dance around to some Selena Gomez (#needtofeelfabulous). Off to date four, where my uber driver asked if he should just take me to Montreal to party with him. Um, last time I checked, uber wasn’t a dating service, and this is borderline kidnapping, so I ran out of that uber as fast as I could into date numero four. I knew nothing about him, but he had a series of surprises in store for me, and he looked JUST my type. Honestly, didn’t even care to know anything about him, he was hot, tall, and interested; JUST my type *eye roll*. I should note that I bagged this guy through a sick line about his school ring, and then blew him off for three weeks during the whirlwind that was the “tech guy” affair (a story for later). Walked into the bar, asked the bartender if there was a guy sitting alone, and he took me over to the back bar where I saw a short little Indian man and thought “oh my god, I have been catfished, one pity drink and I’m OUTTA here” only to realize the real date was sitting behind him, in all of his glory, the best looking man I have ever laid my eyes on, aka Fabio. The rest of this story is too good for what my unlucky life usually affords me with men, so I will save it for another day when we all think hope is lost upon me in the dating world after I get into the thick of my unluckiness.

Overall, three/four dates in one day is not a 10/10 recommend, but it is if you’re looking to rack up the worlds worst two-day hangover and you’re trying to forget all other aspects of your life. What I didn’t see coming out of all of this, was that it weeds out all of the crazy guys who seem to get mad when you don’t reply to them #protip. Anyways, I have about… yup, around 87 boy stories to tell, so strap your seat belts ladies and gents, things are about to get unlucky up in this bitch. Until then,

xoxo call me beep me if you wanna reach me (especially if you’re a retired model like Fabio), 

Anna

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Número Uno

I would like to start by saying no good date starts without having to take a shot of some sort of poison aka vodka to calm the nerves (merci Anna*). I am also probably the most awkward person that has walked this earth so far and I’m sure many of you are thinking, “We are all awkward in our own ways…” false. Last time I checked I was the only person who made dinosaur noises for zero reason. So, that doesn’t really help.

Now what is it that makes us so nervous about going on a date for the first time? Is it the fact that we are slightly terrified they will be making us into a lampshade by the end of the night or is it that we have an adequate amount of fear of rejection? I guess we will just never know!

As I slide into one of my (not so many) date stories, I will remind you that names have been changed to not identify or embarrass anyone (mostly myself). Here it goes… if there is only one thing a guy should not do on a first/any other date, it is for SURE flirting with other girls or any living person at the place he is taking you too. Sorry, I didn’t realize I should have friend-zoned you earlier. But in the end my hopes weren’t high to begin with; I only went on this date so that he would stop asking #sorrynotsorry #itsnotyouitsme #ish. I can’t even say that the agony was worth the free coffee, because I had to pay for my own.

Well that’s all for now. Farewell my loves.

Your neighbourhood good girl,

Ava xoxo

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WHO ARE WE? Alice

Badass lady scientist. Fashionista. Fantasy boy league coach. Alice is not looking for her forever. She found it, and he stepped on it. Instead, Alice is building up a roster of men that can match her sub-for-sub after a night out, will help her build furniture, and appreciates a good wax. Feelings are rare, like a decent dude on tinder. Known to be happy to have her bed to herself for the night, Alice is a woman with passion, intelligence, and a wardrobe composed of mainly dark colours. With an extensive sunglasses collection, she is not here for your shadiness and will drop you the second you catch feelings or stand her up (#stage5). Succumbing to FOMO on the regular, she's a good girl with a bad side, helping her bag some solid 10′s in her time. Slightly jaded by her exes, Alice is a woman on a mission to never get fucked over again, instead staying one step ahead of the game with homeboy’s replacement already lined up. Weaknesses? She has none. Only you do. Will she finally let someone in, or will she build the most epic roster in the league? Either way, she's winning the game. xoxo, please don't call me maybe, Alice

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WHO ARE WE? Ava

Ready to get married yesterday. Funniest person in a room. Forever over-exaggerating. 

Ava is Beyonce in her search for Jay-Z. Looking for a husband who will share her love of sparkles, Ava is the epitome of a fabulous good girl. Reclaiming her life after one bad encounter, she will dodge all of your potential kisses and then wonder why she is still single. Known to frequent coffee shops and send pictures to the girls of her “husbands” she finds there, she is ready to set up an Instagram page for her future children’s outfits, buy a van, and to be a crazy-mom soccer coach. She works hard, and plays... less hard. Loyal to her core, but gets mad when he doesn’t reply to the text she sent at 8:03 at 8:02, Ava is navigating through a series of friend set-ups in the hopes her man does not live with their parents and won’t leave her stranded at a bus stop. Negatively interested in something casual, will she find a husband ready to put a ring pop on her finger? Lets hope, these eggs aren’t getting any younger.  xoxo, love me, hate me, don’t say what you want about me, Ava

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WHO ARE WE? Anna

Taller than your average. The Kendall to your friend group. The Dad of the house.  Anna is a 20-something optimistic lover looking to find a man who can help her make football picks while also baking scones on Sundays. Overachiever, perfectionist, and high-functioning OCD lady who has been described as the worlds most unlucky lover to ever walk into a bar and accept free drinks. Fond of a good pair of heels and a boy with blue eyes, she is well educated, financially stable, and independent to her core. In a series of contradictions, she simultaneously tries to be the chill girl and also the badass business woman in any situation. Often told she could write the “How To” book of being the best girlfriend, she will inevitably continue to fall for the wrong guy, think she can fix him, and then have her heart broken. Always ready to try, follow Anna through her series of unfortunate love events, and her dates with the wrong men of the future. Will she find someone who isn’t intimidated by her and is emotionally aware enough to know how to be a decent boyfriend? God, lets hope so. xoxo, call me beep me if you wanna reach me (especially if you’re a tall, single male with blue eyes), Anna