Zero Fucks To Give

“Why would I pay for something I get to see for free?”

In another life that would have been a blow to a fragile ego. These days? Not so much. My ego is in a reinforced steel vault that would require something pretty significant to dent it. I’m not even certain anything could get through the protective layers of lead paint I’ve coated that bad boy with. I’m an awfully selfish and vain person these days. So hearing a comment like deflected pretty easily off my armour of awesomeness.

Let’s rewind though. A little back story is needed to understand the full context of what that crass statement was all about.

About two months ago I met a guy at the comedy festival I attended in Edmonton. We struck a conversation as we both watched his friend circling the venue, completely missing the bright yellow chair that was waiting for him. We placed bets on how long it would take for him to notice as, Chuckles (his name for the sake of this story, coz it turns out he was a bit of a clown), kept texting him hot/cold messages.

Five and a half minutes for those interested.

After his friend finally arrived I thought that would be the end of it. I’m a chatty friendly person but I also attend so many events alone that my conversations with others end rather abruptly when those they were waiting for arrive. They go off to their seats and I resume my vigil over my solo realm. It’s nice to break up the monotony meeting new people but I attend events by myself for a reason.

I expected this to go the way of all my past interactions and settled back into my chair, waiting for the show to begin. Chuckles, however, had other plans. He continued to engage and I found myself drawn in, enjoying the rapport. Turns out he lives in Calgary and we had a few things in common. He asked for my number as we left since he was only attending the one night and wanted to make tentative plans for when I got home.

I’m not in the dating market, while simultaneously not being out of it either. In other words, if something happens naturally I’m open to it, but I’m not longer seeking out a relationship. I am quite happy living my best life on my own. Truly for selfish reasons, in that I don’t really want to invest in someone else’s feelings or be accountable to them. I have big plans for my future and a relationship would be an Iron Maiden of despair and hopelessness.

That being said, he was fun to talk to so I gave him my number. Even if nothing progressed beyond that night you miss 100% of the chances you never take. If something were to progress I wasn’t completely shut off to it. But I do have exceptionally high standards for anyone who wishes to partner with me. To the point I’m almost positive I’m going to stay single for the rest of my life.

I’m not sad about that idea.

For example, my perfect date is so simple, and yet so far fetched that if someone ever actually did it I think I might have a heart attack.

“Babe, I got tickets to the show you wanted to see and booked dinner reservations, you know, at Restaurant XYZ, for after. (I prefer to eat after and bask in the glow of a good show, or wallow in a bad one). I’ll pick you up at 6. What colour dress are you going to wear so I can match my tie?”

Doesn’t seem like too much, right? Yet, finding someone who takes that level of initiative, or even interest in what I enjoy, seems akin to the search for the Holy Grail.

Elusive and not real.

I’ve not lost all hope, but it’s a sliver of what once was, that’s for sure.

Chuckles wasn’t that level, but he did come up with good ideas and followed through on them. Yet, the ideas were never anything I had mentioned. He didn’t even attend the comedy festival in Calgary with me which I thought would have been an easy one to get right. I had already bought my ticket and planned to attend solo, but if someone tags along all the better. I wasn’t bothered to go unescorted, I’m a damn good time all on my own.

Yet…I think it did bother me.

It must have because no one even knew I was seeing him.

Actually, that’s not fair. That wasn’t that reason I didn’t tell anyone, but rather a promise I made to myself. I would no longer get excited about dating a guy until that perfect date happens, and will bring no one home unless I know there is definitive long term plans. Neither of them happened with Chuckles so there was no reason to spread the gospel so to speak.

Then I started taking a burlesque class in August (story for another day, but I love it!) and there was a showcase last week for it. I had told him and he thought it was cool, but didn’t express any curiosity in attending or interest at all. Perhaps he wasn’t familiar with burlesque, but a quick Google search would have explained it. It’s basically a classier version of stripping. All the legal bits are covered but by the end of the dance the ta tas are shaking with little but pasties covering the nips.

When I told him I was nervous about it, but excited too, it appeared to be the first time it dawned on him what I was about to do.

Now, we were not ‘official’ nor exclusive. Even if we were, no one will be telling me what I am allowed to do with my body or with my free time. However, the realization seemed to hit and there was definitely a pull back in terms of communication and interest.

Fine, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, nor will I change to fill someone else’s cup anymore. If this was a dealbreaker for him I completely understood. I wasn’t going to stop. After the show the bug took root and I am all in for future performances. Anyone who wants to be a part of my life has to be on board with that, and sitting front row to every show.

Was he gonna be that guy? Only one way to find out. I planned a dinner date to ask him.

Why dinner you ask? Why not just call or text him? Because I’m so fucking tired of those types conversations. We have become so detached from one another that we rely on a primitive form of communication to convey our thoughts and feelings. They get lost in the translation of emojis, lack subtext and you miss all the facial expressions/body language that tell you truly how someone feels.

Sorry, rant over…for now. This is a topic I want to come back to.

So we met. We ordered drinks and an appetizer. I asked him why he didn’t come to my show. His response was, well, the first sentence of this story.

Instant ick.

I finished my drink, paid the bill and walked out. There was nothing left to say.

Well, not quite true. I did thank him for his honesty and let him know that the only way he will ever get to see my phenomenal breasts again is if he pays a queens ransom, while grovelling at my feet.

There is no room for mediocrity in my life anymore. It’s either an enthusiastic yes, or a definitive no.

If it’s yes, then buy the ticket, show the fuck up, and act like you’ve never seen my glorious knockers before.