Woodcock…

February 2015. After the Brick, I immediately became engrossed in my online apps. The sooner I found someone, the better. I threw out all of my standards out the window (if I even had any at this vulnerable and desperate time) in exchange for immediate appeasement.

We met on Match. His profile read like the rest of them – disingenuous. He “loved his family, going out, travelling, eating good food, etc.” the typically generic bullshit that hundreds of others had. I think my own profile could’ve been lumped in with the rest of them. He was a cute, shaved head, Italian dude.

After casually chatting back and forth for a week or so, he suggested we meet up for dinner. We ended up in Markham at a sushi restaurant my family and I used to love going to. I was late. He was sitting in a booth waiting for me. He was shorter than I expected and definitely not as cute. Had I been in public and walked by him, I wouldn’t have noticed, you know what I mean?

He had a nice voice, raspy and deep. He was 31. No kids. Never been married. Lived in Woodbridge with his parents and sister. His job was as a custom woodworker (dining room tables, shelves, etc.) He emphasized how much he loved food and red wine. He played guitar and loved heavy metal. He was able to keep up a decent conversation.

Red Flag #1 – He didn’t drive. The story he told me was that he owned a pick-up truck that was sitting in his parent’s garage. The reason why he couldn’t drive was because almost a year earlier, he was busted for falling asleep at the wheel and his license was revoked. He said that he would have it back within eight or nine months. I asked if it was because of narcolepsy, epilepsy or a DUI. He said no to all. Interesting.

We finished dinner and then sat in my car to wait for his cab. Uber wasn’t around yet so cabs and buses were his mode of transportation. I should’ve cut it off here. But no, I just HAD to give him a chance.

He kissed me before leaving and it wasn’t anything special. (I am already over this and yet, I still stuck around).

When I updated the work crew about this guy, we had a hard time figuring out a name. I wanted to call him the cabinet maker, but they vetoed it since it was too long. Pedro ultimately ended up creating “Woodcock” and it stuck (this was not reflective of his dick). The only part of this name that made sense was “Wood” because that is what he worked with.

The next few dates were spent meeting up downtown. We would go for dinners, watch hockey games at pubs and walk around; it was good enough. Eventually, I started driving out to Vaughan and he would sometimes take the bus/train to visit me. After a short while, his visits stopped and so did meeting up downtown. My old fucking pattern reared its ugly head; here I was driving out to Vaughan to date a man I didn’t really feel anything with. I never felt like I had a “crush” on him. I never got excited to spend time with him. (This was now beyond red flags).

It wasn’t all terrible though. At least he appreciated good food and wine, but this should not have been the reason why I continued spending time with him, clearly. I clung onto this for some reason. Maybe I wasn’t good enough for someone better.

I learned that he suffered from anxiety. He didn’t specify what caused it. He only told me that it kept him from sleeping.

I met his family early on. I rarely saw his dad, but his mom was really nice. His sister was ok. But I didn’t agree with the way they spoke to their mom. I was actually shocked at the disrespect. His grandparents were absolutely lovely. I attended a handful of Sunday family lunches at their house. His grandmother would sing my name.

Red Flag #2 – A man who disrespects his mom is unacceptable.

He met my roommates. My mom laughed at how short he was. He got along with Vic because any time we all hung out, we were drinking; but Vic thought I could do way better.

Red Flag #3 – He drank a lot. I think part of the reason was so that he could sleep. He suffered from anxiety and rather than seeking mental health support, he drank to the point of incoherence.

I still gave him chances because…well, my need for accompaniment trumped logic.

Truth be told, he was kind of a dick. When he wasn’t complaining about everything in life, he was boasting about heavy metal bands that I just didn’t give a shit about. He was a pessimistic prick. He also hated that I told people that we met online. I don’t know what kind of sugar-coated romance novel he expected me to tell, but it wasn’t happening. I was telling people the truth. Fuck him.

Red Flag #4 – He was not affectionate and the sex was forgettable. He was small and didn’t know how to work with what he had (including his mouth). He was like 5’3”, with a small build and a small cock. To top it all off, he was a bad kisser. I felt like a winner.

Yes, say it out loud, what the fuck was I thinking???!!!

I know, there have been enough red flags to tell me to get the fuck out, but it takes this girl many times to learn her lessons.

So, we continued dating; but there was no spark, no care, no chemistry – none of the things I really craved.

I had met a couple of his friends by this point, and they seemed cool. I had no desire for him to meet any of my friends.

We even went to Niagara Falls and Montreal together. The only good thing about Niagara was seeing the frozen falls. Montreal was slightly better. We were going to a Habs game and I was excited. We booked a nice hotel and went for really delicious dinners. It was fun; not because I enjoyed being with him, but because I fucking love Montreal.

Both weekends were extremely unromantic, but at least there was booze, food and hockey.

While in Montreal, we had sex in the shower. It was this big fancy shower that I could lay down in. We took advantage of it. I lied down on my back while we fucked missionary style. I must’ve swallowed and inhaled a gallon of water. It became extremely uncomfortable and I just felt sick afterward.

During the second, and only other time we had sex that weekend, he tore off my pearl bracelet from Tiffany’s. I accused him of doing it on purpose because it was a gift from my ex-fiancé (which he knew from a previous conversation). He brushed it off. I was fucking livid. I wasn’t wearing it because it reminded me of my ex; I wore it because it was beautiful. He was such an asshole about it.

As we drove home on the Sunday, I could feel my lungs burning. I think I am lucky that I didn’t dry drown from all of the fucking water I inhaled laying on the shower floor. I ended up getting bronchitis and missed an entire week of work. He didn’t even check up on me.

After my recovery, I was over it. We hung out a couple more times and then during my final visit, sometime in April; we went for drinks and food, and I told him we needed to stop seeing each other and maybe we should just be friends. He agreed. We actually continued hanging out that evening and his sister and some of his friends met up. I told his sister in the washroom that her brother and I were over. She grabbed my hand and marched me over to him. She told him that he was a fucking idiot and shouldn’t end things with me. Meanwhile, I thought to myself that there was nothing that would convince me to be with this guy.

His response to her was, “I know, I know, but what the fuck do you want me to do? I don’t want to be in a relationship.” It was just getting plain awkward, so I walked away from the two of them, went for a smoke and drove home. I was elated. I never ever wanted to see or speak to him again!

I was kind of disgusted with myself for spending as much time with him as I did. He just wasn’t a good person.

June 2015. I was sitting at my desk at work. A beautiful floral arrangement was delivered to my desk. I thought it was from one of the newer guys I was getting to know, OPP. I called Lady G and Kol to my desk before I opened up the letter. They were giddy with me! When I opened up the envelope, I was shocked to see that it was a three-page hand written letter from fucking Woodcock. He professed his love for me and was utterly apologetic. I was dumb-founded. He detailed the love and care that grew inside of him during our 2 months together. I thought it was a crock of shit. He didn’t do or say anything that showed me love. He even ended the letter with some random hand-drawn picture of a camel (or a horse) with huge breasts and a pair of jeans. It was fucked up. I waited for T to finish class and ran down to her office and read the letter and showed her the picture. We had an awesome laugh. The flowers were gorgeous. I sent him a text thanking him for putting himself out there and the flowers. I also confirmed that I didn’t want to speak to him or be with him.

He messaged me and called me a handful of times after that. I never responded. It got to the point where one of his friends (who I did not meet) messaged me, begging me to call Woodcock. The friend said he had never seen his friend react like this over a woman and he talked about me nonstop. I thanked the friend and told him that Woodcock and I didn’t have a close, loving relationships and I asked him to never message me again. Woodcock’s last-ditch attempt was to send me an email. Again, he begged and pleaded for me to give him another chance, that he loved me. I emailed him back with a short message. I literally told him that there was zero chances of us being together, that he was an utter asshole and I asked him to leave me the fuck alone. He responded with a few pathetic profanities and then I never heard from him again. Amen.

Recommendation – We ate at my favourite restaurant in Montreal, Au Pied de Cochon. If you like foie gras, definitely eat there.  Reservations recommended.

Duration = 3 months

Lesson(s) Learned:

1. I’ve said it once and I will say it again, if you don’t feel the chemistry/fire/spark, move the fuck on. It doesn’t have to be a powerful, kick-in-the-ass revelation, but it’s something fantastic that someone should at least be able to stir inside of you, early on. I never felt it with Woodcock and I wasted a lot of time with him.
2. As you get to know someone and you realize as time goes on that you don’t fucking like them (even as a friend), that they aren’t a good person and you don’t want to fuck them; then MOVE THE FUCK ON. Welcoming negative energy like this into one’s life is a set back and you just end up feeling shittier about yourself.
3. If you don’t want to introduce the new guy you’re dating to your friends, that is a sign/red flag that you don’t want to be with that person. That’s all a girl ever wants, for her new man to meet her friends!
4. Don’t berate yourself for making mistakes. Shit happens and you need to make sure to learn your lessons. Again, I am aware that it takes a few or more men for me to learn from said mistakes. But that’s my “journey” (utterly cliché).
5. Sexual/physical chemistry is just as important as mental chemistry. If you don’t want to devour your new partner in every way, then fuck it. That excitement, especially early on, is so much fun and keeps you curious.