The Leather Pants - Date 1

One girl's misadventures in online dating: Date 1 - Anderson

         It all started with a wink. What does that mean on online dating? Not sure, I think it's like a "like" on Facebook. Either way, he was cute so I wrote him a message, he responded and eventually gave me his number. We texted for a few days, I followed the rules in my new man catching book, and voila! A date! (According to my book I'm supposed to call it a "meet up", but I do what I want.)

        Let me explain about the book, after Adam ghosted, the girl who set us up recommended a book to me. This was weird for multiple reasons: 1. She just set me up with a dick. 2. Now she's giving me dating advice? okaaaayyyyyy  3. I don't really know her, she doesn't know for sure that I suck at dating. Regardless, I read the book because among other reasons: I am a huge nerd, I love reading, and I was curious. Many questions popped into my head: Am I man-repellant? Do other women have to read books in order to find men? How low can I possibly stoop? as well as others that I'm sure you can imagine. Anyway, I digress ...

        Thursday night, I donned my leather pants and drove myself to my favorite ice cream shop. At this point I was fairly concerned about the initial meeting: What do I say? What does he say? Will we hug? Shake hands? What if I don't recognize him? What if I approach the wrong person? 

         I was early, of course, because being late makes a bad first impression. The first person I ran into was someone from work, which made my thought process even worse, thinking they were going to watch me awkwardly meet my first online date. I quickly hid, hoping she didn't see me, and texted Anderson my whereabouts so that he could still find me. He drove up 10 minutes later, said "Sack Murda?" and made all my worries quite irrelevant. 

         He was as his profile had said he would be: 6'3'', brown hair, blue eyes, looked like the pictures. We chatted while we stood in line for ice cream and joked around. He paid for the ice cream (Yay! Free ice cream!) and then we went out to the stairs to eat it. Conversation flowed easily and it was obvious that we had a lot in common and a good connection. We talked about music and friends and family and whatnot. Eventually we walked over to a nearby park to explore for a bit, it was nice and still conversation flowed easily. Unfortunately, it had become obvious to me that, while he was good-looking, we had a lot in common, and he was nice enough, there was no spark there for me. The chemistry was missing and I think he felt that too*. I also got sort of pretentious vibes from him. He was opinionated about strange things and then over-shared his opinions. For example, he doesn't like tattoos and told me about it for over 15 minutes. I don't have tattoos, but I like them on other people. Finally, he walked me back to my car while we joked about this being where I murder him. Then he hugged me goodbye, no kiss, and I wasn't even mad. I was not planning on hearing from him again, unless maybe as a friend, but I have lots of friends. I went home and read my book (a different book, not about catching men) before bed. 

         All in all, I would say a medium success for a first online date. 1. At least he showed up, when he was late I was concerned. 2. At least he looked like he looked on his profile. 3. At least we didn't not have anything to say to each other.

Love Sack Murda

*Update: He texted today to invite me to be his Facebook friend. What does this mean? Who knows ... I know I will over-think it, though.

P.S. The leather pants were not worn in vain! A man cat-called me from his cab, so there's that too.

Em for Movies - Everest

I walked into Everest with no expectations, with no background or foreknowledge except that a storm would occur on the tallest mountain in the world. There was much more to it than that. The knowledge that it was a true story would have prepared me for a more harrowing journey than that.

In awe-inspiring 3D, I was blown away by the vistas, the shots and the ever-present awareness that we were at the edge of the world. My keen fear of heights nearly made me close my eyes, but the frankly stunning cinematography held me rapt.

The characters drew me in quickly; I followed their journey with hope and a slowly growing sense of dread. The tension built exquisitely and I was embroiled in the action before I could even acknowledge that any had taken place. Grounded in traditionalist storytelling, I was on high alert for an antagonist, for the telltale character flaws of hubris or malice, for errors or double-crosses I’d come to expect in a survival story. But I looked in vain. Reality is rarely that easy, and this story looked, felt, sounded and (turns out) is as true as possible.

I stumbled out of Everest emotionally drained and physically exhausted, as all of the muscles that had been tensed for two harrowing hours slowly relaxed. I could hardly answer my friends when they asked whether I had liked the movie. It was more of an experience, watching that brutal and beautiful struggle. I think that I did like it. I was moved and captivated, which is enough.

On the drinks scale, I was inclined to rate it an oxygen cocktail, after finding out that is an actual thing, but it sounds bloody impossible to make and may in fact be health food nonsense. So instead, I will rate it as a Dark Moon which is bold, chilling, and features enough caffeine to get your heart racing.

Likely the closest I will ever get to the Himalayas. Close enough.

Enjoy,
Em



The Leather Pants - An Introduction

        I'm not looking for my other half, because I'm not a half. I don't need completion. Alone, I am a complete person, I am a happy person, and I am more than capable of being by myself. That being said, I consider myself to be a hopeful romantic. I'm convinced that there is someone out there for me who will share in my happiness and be another whole that I can add to my life.

        The Leather Pants is going to be the story of my search for the man that I can share my life with. This is an introduction to how I got to this point in my life and what pushed me toward this leg of my journey.

        I am a girl who is very confident in myself and I know what I want. I have a career, a solid group of friends, hobbies of my own, a loving family, and a very happy life in general. I have dated a few men throughout my life, some relationships lasted longer than others, as they do, and some lasted just one date. From each of these men I've learned something about myself and what I'm looking for, but this year all of these things came to a head for me and led me on this new adventure. Obviously all names have been changed; I'm here to tell my story, not theirs, and I'm not here to disrespect anyone or the choices that they've made.

        This summer, I had my heart broken, stomped on, and disrespected by two men. The first, Dave, I had had a crush on for years. I had known him in passing and always thought he was good-looking, but never managed the courage to actually go and speak to him. One day, it came up that we had friends in common, and we ended up at a few parties together in quick succession. Things progressed from there and we went out together a few times. He was a gentleman at first; he picked me up, opened my car door, and treated me like a queen. That is, until he got bored. My grandma had been sick for a few months and then in July she passed away. I didn't really look to Dave for comfort because I knew that whatever we had was too new to expect anything from him. I guess I'll never really know what made Dave disappear, but when I asked what happened to him he said, "I don't know, that thing with your grandma really got to me". Yeah, I can definitely see how my grandma passing away could have been tough for you, Dave. And that was that. Simple and crushing. He had proven that he was a coward and couldn't handle real situations, so I had to move on.

       Following that, I received a message on Facebook from an acquaintance asking me if I was single because her friend had been checking me out and wanted to know. This would be the beginning of me and Adam. My acquaintance set up drinks one night for us to meet, we chatted in the parking lot, texted a lot, and eventually went on a date. I will say for Adam that it was one of the best first dates I've ever been on, we had an immediate connection, and the date lasted 12 hours without me getting bored of him. The next little while was filled with him pursuing me, texting me, telling me how he's never met anyone like me, and him basically leading me on. We went on a bunch of dates, got to know each other, and had a lot of fun. Things progressed quickly emotionally for both of us, or so I thought. It didn't last long, but it was an intense "relationship" if one could call it that. One day I sent a fateful text that started "Hey babe," because I call most people I'm close with either "babe", "baby" or an equivalent term of endearment. I thought nothing of sending this text and was not concerned at all. A few days later, after not having heard back from Adam, I texted him that I was getting blow-off vibes from him and that if he wasn't into it anymore then he should tell me. He responded, "I feel like you are at a different level than me. The babe thing was kind of out of the blue". This after I had tried to catch up to his level! He had pursued me, told me how into it he was, and I had believed him. I called him that night to explain that I call everyone "babe", but he didn't answer and I never heard from him again. Fret not, dear reader, Adam did not die in a freak gasoline fight accident, he is alive and well.  He still communicates with anyone who didn't call him "babe" and posts shirtless pictures on Instagram. He has been added to my list of cowards that can't handle real situations and shall remain there.

       From an outside perspective, those stories might not seem like the end of the world, and they definitely aren't, but they were the two inciting incidents for the rest of my story. Writing about them now and having time and distance from the emotions I can't really explain how I felt, but if you've ever fallen for someone you shouldn't have, and then had your heart broken by that person, you can imagine how I was feeling. It would be impossible for me to put all of the emotions of this summer into a blog post, but you'll have to believe that for me the feelings were real and that my heart was broken.

      All this to say I was done with meeting guys through friends and through my hobbies. My work best friend had just gotten married last year and he met his wife online; one of my girlfriends met her boyfriend online; dating sites boast that anywhere between 1-in-5 and 1-in-3 relationships start online, so I began thinking, "Why not me?" Maybe this is the way people meet now, I'm certainly not young enough to go to the club and meet a guy, and if I did, he wouldn't be someone I would spend my life with. I signed up for online dating the next month, after sufficient heart healing, and that's where this story begins.

       You're probably wondering, why the leather pants? The same girlfriend who met her boyfriend online has this pair of leather leggings and she looks amazing in them, I've been jealous of them for a while. So when Adam ghosted, I needed a pick-me-up. My girlfriend took me to the mall and we bought a pair of leather leggings that we then deemed my "revenge pants" because I was still feeling justifiably spiteful at the time and had decided that if Adam saw me in them he would be fittingly upset. These are the pants that my friends and I have decided I will wear on all my online dates, just to see what happens.

       So sit back, relax, and watch as my leather pants and I step into the crazy, intimidating, and possibly awesome world of online dating.

Em for Movies - The Martian

About a year ago I was given a copy of The Martian. I hadn’t heard anything about it whatsoever, apart from my mother’s strict instructions to, “Read this, then call me.” The cover was intriguing and I didn’t even bother reading the blurb on the back; I immediately flipped to the opening line and was hooked.

Earlier that same week, I’d had a very fun conversation with a friend about our all-time favourite opening lines of novels. The Martian leapt into my top 5 with style.

            “I’m pretty much fucked.” Bam.

Naturally, I was thrilled when I heard that they were turning Andy Weir’s triumphant, (originally) self-published sci-fi geekventure into a movie. As with any adaptation, I had certain expectations going in and I must say they were all either met or exceeded. As though the filmmakers had my checklist in their hand, going point for point and making sure they got everything.

A (very) little background on the story for you: Mark Watney is a very bright, capable, nice guy left for dead on Mars by his crew during a crazy storm.

What makes this story work is the personality of its hero. Mark is wry and practical and relatable. He embodies the slightly nerdy and irrepressible spirit of modern survival, where he is very aware of how precarious his heroics are (making water by burning hydrogen springs to mind), and yet unwilling to accede. Matt Damon waxes perfection, expressing the boyish zeal as well as the logic and tenacity of the character.

The secondary cast members shine as well; Jeff Daniels, Jessica Chastain and Chiwetel Ejiofor turn in great performances. Sean Bean was understated and perhaps underutilized in his role, though I suppose not dying (spoiler?) was a new challenge for him. It felt truly surreal and a little jarring when a meeting of NASA’s finest is obliquely referred to as “the Council of Elrond”, and the Lord of the Rings reference is then explained with Boromir sitting quietly in the background. Not worth dwelling on, though.

Mars itself was desolate and beautiful and terrifying, as it should be. It was given center stage as far as scenery goes, with the action on Earth centered in offices and control rooms. Even outdoor shots of crowds gathered together to watch feats of derring-do 140 million miles away are tightly focused urban scenes with no visible horizon or landscape to speak of. This worked to give Mars the greater sense of place and realism, which kept me well grounded on the red planet.

Overall, The Martian was everything that I wanted it to be. Elements of classic sci-fi treated with a self-awareness and ease made it a delight to watch. A liberal addition of humour (ever-present in the book as well, if you couldn’t tell from the opening line) alleviated the drama and counterpointed the action to make a truly enjoyable film.

In the scale of drinks, I'd give it a cardassian sunrise.

Entry 1 - Collaboration and Alcoholism

For me, writing has always been a solo endeavor. From the initial idea phase through draft after draft to final product being scrawled in a journal, put very carefully away and never, under any circumstances, shared with anyone.

Ridiculous.

As a voracious reader, and lifelong advocate for literacy, I adore reading the opinions, misadventures, imaginings and rants of strangers. And yet, some of the best stories ever I've heard were told over brunch with the girls following the casually disinterested question: "So, how was your date last night with what's-his-lips?" Or the very candid revelation of an acquaintance's (disturbing) unrequited love for cowboy hats. I realized that the wonderful people in my life have a metric shit-ton of moving, fun and fascinating things to say. The world may not be made manifestly better by having these delicious tidbits out for general consumption, but maybe it will.

The time has come to share.

The submissions on this blog come from a variety of authors, inspirations and backgrounds. Most of the names in true stories have been changed to limit the privacy factor (except you Kevin, you're creepy and you need to own that). We (the authors and editor) work in collaboration by offering topic suggestions, brainstorming ideas over a bottle or four of wine, dropping gauntlets, sending encouraging glitter bombs, the usual. It is a fun and challenging way to work, and far more interesting than my standby of an empty, draughty room and a dozen notebooks.

The way we decide on the ultimate merit of any given work is in terms that we all understand. Booze. We've agreed that simply finishing a piece, and hitting the little "publish" button merits at least a beer. Something that was well-crafted and delicious would be a sloe gin cocktail. A truly sublime work of art on the other hand, could be the equivalent of an expensive bottle of whiskey. We encourage creativity in all of its forms, alcohol included.

And so cheers, to the beginning of a beautiful friendship.





Em