January 30, 2019. I still wasn’t sure about this guy. It wasn’t anything to do with him, but everything to do with me. I couldn’t admit to myself that I should end things. I convinced myself to continue to get to know him. He was sweet.
Red Flag.
We went for wings at my favourite pub, The Portley Piper. We sat at the bar and I introduced him to Cheryl, the cool ass bartender, who I love.
He was more talkative this time around. He asked me if I liked the beard. I lied and said I did. He talked about how he and I had previously met. He had attended one of me and Vic’s annual birthday BBQs. I laughed and accused him of lying because I mingle with everyone who attends our soiree. I just couldn’t place him.
After an hour or so he drove me home, kissed me goodnight and left.
As soon as I was inside, I went back to my BBQ photo archives and found a group shot of all the boys from our BBQ the year before. There he was, lost amongst the rainbow of hooligans. I laughed out loud. The photo did not conjure up any memories of him being there.
February 3, 2019. Superbowl Sunday. The Hobbit traditionally held a party at his place every year. Vic always went and this year I was going with him. I baked cookies and magic bars. There was a ton of food and a big group of people when we arrived. Among them were his brother, two sisters and sister-in-law. Everyone was nice. I was happy to be there. As the night went on, we’d sneak off to his room and make out.
There was just something missing from the whole situation….I knew very early on that I wasn’t that into him, but obviously, kept dating him.
Red Flag – I was the red flag. I chose to ignore my gut.
When the game was over and everyone started shuffling out, I helped him clean up and then we left. Vic was drunk and we chatted on the way home. He was supportive of me and The Hobbit. All he cared about at the end of the day was that whoever I was with brought me up and complemented me. He was tired of all the losers I was dating.
Mid-week I met up with The Hobbit to play pool. As I approached the bar, and saw him waiting outside for me, pangs of disinterest persisted, but enough for me to ignore them. I was taller than him in heels. I had never been with someone shorter than me. I wasn’t a fan.
He tried teaching me how to play. I was more interested in the food menu.
He was very “kissy” as we played. I did it, but I honestly wasn’t super into it.
Red Flag – I spent too much time convincing myself to give him a chance because he was “nice”; and that the attraction would eventually happen.
After a couple of games and some food we decided to go back to his place. It was cold out and when he saw that I was shivering, he wrapped his arms around me while we waited for the light to change to cross the street. His gesture was so sweet, but I only felt awkward. His presence just felt smaller than mine, and I am not just talking about his height. I was this big personality with a loud voice, big hair, big mouth and no filter. He was the complete opposite.
Myth – Opposites do not always attract.
Run Poppy. Fucking Run.
We went to his place afterward where we proceeded to have a few drinks and make out on his couch.
He asked if I “wanted to go upstairs”. Nope. I told him I was too nervous and wasn’t ready. He said he was nervous too and understood. I left a short time after.
Fuck. He was kind and sweet….but mundane. Was I just so used to the game of being kept on my toes (in the most negative ways) by previous assholes? Probably, but maybe not. I just wasn’t feeling it.
Red Flag – The total lack of spontaneity, sexiness, excitement, passion, compatibility.
Run Poppy. Fucking run.
February 9, 2019. I arrived at his place after getting my hair done. I looked good, felt good and The Hobbit was going to have dinner ready for me. He gushed about how he cooked the best schnitzels. I fucking love schnitzel.
When he opened the door I noticed he had a fresh haircut and a trimmed beard. He was also wearing an apron that read “Schnitzel King”. Apparently he was the go-to guy in his family and they donned him with that nickname.
Dinner was delicious. The drinks were never ending.
Red Flag – Alcohol and his sweetness were the only things that made this facade live on for as long as it did.
As per usual, we started out on the couch. Lights dimmed, R&B playing in the background. Within a few minutes of making out and me dry humping him on the couch, he asked if I “wanted to go upstairs”. It was so fucking generic. It’s like he had seen way too many movies and decided that this is what adults do when they’re about to have sex. They “go upstairs”.
I laugh out loud writing about it the way I laughed in my head that night.
Anyway, once we were upstairs, it continued to feel scripted. He was gentle. He was decently endowed. He got soft a few times (he whispered that he was super nervous); so I told him not to worry and to just breathe and take in the moment. He was able to get it going and he lasted longer than expected.
He was attentive, which I anticipated. His moves were generic, but he made me cum.
Run Poppy. Fucking Run.
February 14, 2019. I was never a big proponent of Valentine’s Day. I was busy working away and a dapper man in a suit with a delivery came to my desk. He asked for Poppy Habaneros. I told him that I was her. He smiled and handed me the package.
I opened it up and it was a gorgeous floral arrangement with a card that read “To My Light at the end of the tunnel”. I took a photo and sent it to J-Cat, Lady G, Kol, Miss D and Vic (just to name a few). The girls were smitten, excited, saying that “he was a keeper”.
Vic, on the other hand, immediately laughed and, I quote, said “what a fuckin’ loser”. He and my mom apparently laughed their asses off about it. So mean, but so hilarious. In my world of sarcasm, this level of cheesiness will not go un-ridiculed.
I felt giddy but also lame. In that instance, I could really appreciate why people loved that kind of shit. I drove to his place after work and he had ordered us sushi. He sent me the menu ahead of time so I could pick what I wanted.
Thoughtful Insight #1 – He always sent me the menu of a restaurant before arriving/ordering in.
I also noticed that he had stocked his bar with my favourite booze; a vast array of gin and red wine.
Thoughtful Insight #2 – he listened to my likes.
We feasted and drank. We had sex the following morning as I had a lieu day off and did not have to rush out. In the light of day, it was a different experience. I was in my head. Judging. Feeling uncomfortable. It wasn’t him. It was me. The motions were fine, just like the first time. He went down on me, I came, missionary, doggy style.
I had no desire to look at him. When he was on top of me or going down, I looked elsewhere or shut my eyes. Most of the time I would be thinking of that Mariah Carey video for “Touch My Body” where the whole thing is about sexy Mariah having a nerdy IT guy visit her home, trying to appreciate what was happening.
He was a cutie and a sweetheart but lacked sex appeal; even though all of the things he did for me would make most women swoon.
I just wasn’t that into him.
Run Poppy. Run.
We cat napped and when I got up to shower, he decided to join me. When he got up, I watched his bare backside walk into the washroom.
Typically, when I watch my man walk away (especially naked), all I want to do is slap that ass, give it a squeeze or a lick.
I felt nothing.
He tried to get it on with me in the shower. He made an attempt to lift me up, wrap my legs around his waist and fuck me against the shower wall. First of all, unless you have the perfect shower set up and a man who can actually carry your weight and go through the motions, it’s always a fail. I feel the same about having sex in a pool, hot tub, ocean, etc. – it’s too much work, uncomfortable and usually feels like I’m going to get a yeast infection.
Anyway, after about 5 seconds, he put me down and said it was a lot harder than it looked on TV. I was thankful it killed the mood.
I thought that maybe there was going to be a breakthrough; that all of a sudden, this cute and sweet nerdy-type in combination with my wild, saucy, fabulous saltiness would amalgamate to create some sort of power couple. Stereotypical perception, maybe; but what the fuck ever.
March 2, 2019. We took the streetcar from his place to the Rex. It was one of those mild winter days where the snow fell slow and lightly.
It was a packed house when we arrived around 2pm, but were able to get a table. The crowd was happy and we had a great time.
It was big band jazz, drinks and food…the trifecta of entertainment.
We stuck around until dinnertime and went back to his place where his sister and her man met up with us (she lived a few floors above him). They were great to chill with. We drank, had jokes and watched the Leafs’ game. After they left, I was very drunk andI blurted out “so, when are you going to ask me to be your girlfriend?” Fuck.
He said that he was planning on asking, but didn’t know how. Oh dear.
Red Flag – He continued to explain that he asked his best friend on how he should go about asking me to be his girlfriend. I did not find this endearing.
Anyway, we were official.
I woke up hungover and with a new boyfriend. I scanned the bottle of gin I cracked open the previous night and saw that I drank three quarters of it.
Sounds about right.
A few days later, I had a brown out memory. I had a tampon in the night we became a couple and couldn’t remember if I removed it before we had sex. I was at the tail end of my period, but had worn one just in case. I gave myself a finger check but was still unsatisfied. I called The Hobbit and he checked all of his garbage cans. Nada. Maybe I was just being paranoid. I probably flushed it down the toilet before getting it on with him.
Anxiousness set in. I phoned Miss D. I asked her if it was possible that the tampon could be hidden somewhere in my cervix. She said likely not; and if there was, there would be a foul smell coming from my insides since it had been 2 or 3 days. Without hesitation, she asked me if I needed her to come over to do a “swipe”. She fucking knows me so well. I didn’t even have to ask. I told her yes and I’d compensate with a bottle of wine.
She rushed right over. We just laughed at what the fuck was about to happen. The fact that she was an obstetrics nurse settled all of my insecurities about her fingers being inside of me. She cleaned up and snapped on her gloves. I laid in my bed with a towel laying across me. I chugged down a glass of wine and took a deep breath. It felt like I was getting an PAP done. I was relieved afterwards. No tampon.
What kind of best friend is it that double checks that her bestie didn’t have a tampon lurking in her caverns? The absolute most boss bitch friend ever.
March 8, 2019. Kol’s birthday. Her hubby planned an evening out. It would be the first time The Hobbit was going to meet any of my Ride or Dies. When he picked me up and I answered the door, he had his hands behind his back. He then presented a wall mount for the TV that MIss D got me for Christmas. Sweet! He also brought tools to install it.
Vic and mom came to greet him as well. I remember observing how he interacted with two of the most important people in my life. I mean, it was natural and nice; but at the same time I thought, sigh, end this Poppy.
I knocked that thought out of my head. I was going to give this my all. How could I just give up so quickly on a guy who treated me right when I had invested so much in the ones who did not?
Silly fucking Poppy.
We met up with them at the Coachlite Roller Gardens for some roller skating. The music reverberated through the walls. After renting our skates, we headed upstairs. The smell of the rink, plastic furniture, popcorn and hotdogs invaded my nostrils. The combination of orange walls, multi-colour string lights and the disco ball, brought me to a happy place. Aged 10.
Kol and Derek were skating, they looked like pros. They gave us big smiles when they saw us. The Hobbit and I took to the rink, hand in hand. I felt lame. Again, I was a bigger presence, taller in skates and I was leading us almost the entire time.
I was in my head too much about The Hobbit.
After resting and doing a few laps, I was done. The Hobbit and I sat in the lounge area and when everyone else was finished, we went back to Kol’s afterward for a few drinks.
March 9, 2019. We woke up and had a few Caesars. They were so good. I love mine with all the fixins’ minus horseradish; the sight of those floaties makes me ill. It was mom’s birthday so we were heading back to Ajax for dinner at the Keg.
We got to my place around 2. Vic’s bestie, Landrew, came by with his three sons. They’re so fucking cute. Landrew was also like a big little brother to me; he grew up with Vic, so I knew him well. He was protective of me like a sis. All he cared about was that I was happy.
Anyway, after they left, Vic picked up his on-again-off-again lady, Fol from the Go station. We went to the Keg in Ajax. We played nice with the floor manager, explaining that it was my mom’s birthday. She eventually got us one of the big booths in the bar and tipped her for her hospitality. Mom got tipsy off of a Keg-sized bellini and scarfed down her steak and lobster…as we all did. The Hobbit reached out to hold my hand across the table a few times. When I reached out, it didn’t feel natural; also, I was at the fucking dinner table with my mom and brother, some of the most savage beasts ever.
It was awkward for me.
Pieces of what I thought I cherished in the world of romance were there – he gazed at me across the table, he had manners, he drank like a fish, he wanted to hold my hand across the table, etc. I couldn’t fucking gaze back, I had to drink to have a good time with him, and I did not want to hold his hand.
Right sentiments, wrong guy.
Run Poppy. Fucking run.
Dinner was lovely and mom had a great time. After paying the bill we headed to the house to chill out. Vic was having a few friends over for drinks. I needed a nap before being social again so The Hobbit and I hung out in bed for a bit. He had a stomach ache and fell asleep quickly. His snoring was unbearable. I climbed over him to buy some earplugs. He had kept a package of them by his bed and I had forgotten to bring some. He woke up and decided to come with me to Shoppers. When we headed downstairs, a few of the usual suspects were there – Paddington, his girlfriend Bebe and MjDub. I introduced them to The Hobbit and we left.
When we got back, he headed back to bed. After a few drinks and laughs, I joined him. I watched him sleep. There was nothing there. I didn’t want to kiss him, I didn’t want to cuddle, I didn’t want to tear his pants off.
Nothing.
Run Poppy. Fucking run.
March 15, 2019. Feelings Friday. A small group of us get together once a month at Juangela’s to shoot the shit, alleviate any stresses, sadnesses, joys, etc. It’s group therapy with booze, joints and sometimes shrooms. The Hobbit called me and drunken Vic, as always, grabbed the phone from me to talk shit. He told The Hobbit to treat me right and to ensure that I am always happy. I was laughing my ass off. The Hobbit was not amused. When I got back on the phone, I asked if he was ok and he said, very seriously, that he didn’t like “to be pressured like that”.
What fucking pressure? Vic was wasted first of all and second, who fucking cares what he said.
Wuss.
March 16, 2019. J-Cat was throwing a St. Patty’s day party and The Hobbit and I were invited. We took an Uber out to J-Cat’s in Bowmanville. It was all couples. Everyone was nice and fun to drink with. There was so much good food! J-Cat had stickers and shit, so I put some on our faces. Nothing of great mention happened. We were the “new couple” so people asked us how we met and how long we had been together, etc.
I realized that despite the lacklustre experience I was having with The Hobbit, I was more comfortable at this party because we were a “couple”. I also realized that my insecurities were still going strong.
March 17, 2019. The day after the party. Mom and Vic left for the day, so it was just me and The Hobbit. I was a bit hungover, so we cracked a couple of beers and drank them in bed. I am a true proponent of helping a hangover by having a few casual drinks the next day. It fucking helps.
At one point he turned to me and said, “well, we’re alone.” I wasn’t in the mood, so I told him I had a stomach ache.
Red Flag – I did not want anything to do with him physically…not even the good kissing.
It wasn’t him. It was me.
Run Poppy. Fucking Run.
