I Confess, I’m Kay, and I am a Hopeless Romantic

ted talk.com

When I started dating I had this idea of what it was going to be like, and the men I would date.  While race has never been a concern for me, I did try to first date only Indian guys, and then any guys, and soon only non-Indian guys.  I wanted the guy I would eventually marry be able to talk to my grandmother (who only spoke Punjabi) and get my brand of Punjabi which is heavily mixed with English.  I figured someone like me, who came from an Indian background but was born in Canada, was out there.  Culture was the most important to me.  I like to read, write, watch classic movies, go to theatre, listen to country music and I think in English.  Values are also key.  I want an independent man who values family but also on their own.  I don’t fit into my family exactly.  I have ideas and interests that just don’t align with theirs and don’t get me.  It was something that niggled at me for awhile, but now I realize they love me for me, and I am just eccentric af.

I am a hopeless romantic in that I believe that there is someone out there for me, and there is romance.  I always assumed, ahem…books, movies and television, my dream guy would find me (insert meet cute) and we would have this conflict that would move us forward.  He would have a grand gesture at hand, we would be happy…cue romantic proposal, BAM married at 27.  First kid by 30 and I would a great job I love and ta da perfect life.

Hmmmm…27, and no one has found me.  My grandmother asked me why I haven’t married yet…yeah, I am wondering that too.  I know, I am not really trying to meet people, but still!  I was feeling like Bridget Jones so it’s time for a change.  I don’t drink, go clubbing or really party…and weirdly enough, cute nice boys are not loitering the libraries.  I make a profile on POF.

The first several guys I meet are brown guys…a lot without pictures.  Most wanted to hook up or looking to get married.  The in between were no where to be seen.  I will share some of those stories in future posts.  SPOILER ALERT!!!  After the interactions I experienced with men online, and getting to know men, I ended up dating mostly non-Indian men.  When it comes to sexuality, romance and love – showing it and yet not demanding it, I steered towards a certain type.  I am sure I am going to comments on this, but to head it off…this is just ME and MY experience.  What I think and feel are my own…and everyone has their thing.

I still long for romance like in the classic movies, where a guy takes you out and treats you sweet and you banter…and the kiss is just…POW.  But I’ve been hurt, and I have been ghosted, liked but not pursued, treated as an object, been called names, abused, etc so I am cynical as well.  My heart is always out there and when my walls come down…I’m all in. But, life, my life at least, is not roses and chocolates.  Or maybe I’m just not the girl that those things happen to…I’m confident and know I am worth someone’s time but seriously where is that guy???!!!


Boy Crazy and Other Lies


I remember when I was a wee lass of five when I had my first (documented, or actually remember it) crush. We were in the same afternoon kindergarten class and sat by one another in the circle.  He was nice and cute…or whatever that means as a kid. I liked playing house, in the model house we had in the class.  I liked playing in it alone, as no one knew how to play house.  My crush would try to join me, and I can’t say I was welcoming.  I was NOT the charmer and flirt I would later be.  I was more of a boss babe. Long story super short,  I would have a crush on him for most of my young life.  We would not be in the same class again until the seventh grade, but I would quietly pine away for him afar.

In the first grade we had a new kid, he was blonde and had a fancy pea-coat.  He would be my first but not last blonde hair and blue eyed crush.  He was a bit prissy and I was not a princess by any means, so I never really “liked” him for long. Honestly, I remember the pea coat and his glasses more than I remember him. I would also get married a few times in this grade.  I vaguely remember the ceremonies, and even more vague on the boys. It was a thing to do, and getting kissed by a boy wasn’t as exciting back then, so I gave up on marriage pretty fast.

In the third grade I would make my theatre debut as actress, writer and director of Cinderella.  I would cast myself as Cinderella, and the cutest guy in class as Prince Charming.  I would also be casting director by just telling people they were in it and playing this role.  My teacher would politely inform me that it might be better to either be director or an actor, as I could not boss people from the stage.  I would choose director and drop kissing from the play. The following grade a boy would ask me to his birthday.  Me and another girl were the only girls invite.  I declined to attend, as I would never be someone’s second choice.  Or even be considered as a second choice.

In grade six, my first crush’s cousin was in my class.  And, oh boy was I in trouble.  He was hot…like Sweet Valley High cute guy hot.  He would tease me, but also constantly talk to me.  He would walk me home from afar and I was crazy about him.  We would never date as he would never ask me out – the story of my life! He would exit the next year, and enter back my crush.

For the next 5 years we would have courses together and be partnered up a few times, and some he would choose me.  He was kind to everyone, sensitive, sporty, wrote and drew.  He always nice to everyone and I don’t know if he liked me, “liked” me or was just nice.  Even to this day, I have dreams about him.  They are always sweet dreams that end with us getting together and living “romantic comedy” ever after.  It’s safe…and comforting.

I would make it through to graduating from University of British Columbia at age 25 with a joint major in Arts, but I had not been asked out, or been on a proper date nor had I drank any alcohol.  Now, was I ugly, boring, bitchy? I met this guy through a friend who I started to hang out with during my class breaks.  He would just be there at the table I studied.  I would be super sarcastic, funny and self deprecating.  I didn’t have romantic feelings, but I knew he liked me and the attention was nice.  He was Indian and I liked that we could use some Punjabi in our convo.  One day, I said something unkind about my looks (to me, in my mind, I am a pound away from being on my 600 lb life) and he said, “I know you aren’t going to believe me, and hide behind being funny, but you are very beautiful.  And, maybe if you knew that you wouldn’t be as interesting as you are.  You are smart, funny and have the looks that knock the socks-off me.”  I would stop showing up and sneak into my class.

I have this push/pull thing with myself.  I try my best to be funny, smart, pretty, not crazy, enough and when I sometimes succeed it freaks the fuck out of me.  What if I am a good actor, and someone sees the real me?  I also don’t want to be noticed.  Like fucking make your mind up, girl! I hide myself so I don’t tempt a guy to be…crude to me (I KNOW!!!!).  When a guy messages me about riding his cock, or sitting on his face, or with a dick pic…it makes me think what is it about me that makes a guy go there.  I know it’s not me, it’s them and that’s how they treat all women…but when it happens so much you can’t help but wonder “is it me?”

So yeah, that’s my “youth dating”.  Neither love or lust, lol.

How it All Started and Almost Ended

Guardian Soulmates

Before, during and after Sam, I was talking to a few guys online.  I started online dating in 2007 or 2008, when it was still weird to date someone you met cold online.  I started with eHarmony and that almost ended it all.  I watching American Justice on A&E and kept seeing this commercial for online dating.  They were having a special so I thought “why not, I have nothing to lose.”  Ooooo, I love surveys, and really any questions about me.  After the fun long essay, I waited.  It was the most boring time of my life! I am so happy I just signed up for the 3 months.  All I kept getting from my matches were American men from India, mostly in IT.  Apparently, my answer of “doesn’t matter on race/religion/culture” was ignored. Or, do all the non-Indian men on eHarmony not date out of their race.  I had nothing in common when the IT men, and so after a few messages and no meet ups, I was done with eHarmony and almost done with online dating altogether.

A year later, at a sleepover with a friend we drank a lot of wine and started a Plenty of Fish account for me (she already had one).  I was blown away with the messages I receiving, as I saw myself as just not ugly.  I would be on POF for about 3 years, deleting my account once for a few months.  When I would go back to online dating in the summer of 2017,  there were so many more options and I tried most of them (OkCupid, Tinder, POF, Bumble and even tried Match for a free-week).   From that summer in 2017 I would delete and restart dating apps a few…several times.   My next post will be more on why I chose dating apps and my innocent beginnings.



It’s 2019, Bitches! Or, It’s a New Year of New Problems

google images

Ahhhh, it’s the New Year…a new me and another year to start fresh.  FML, it’s 16 days in and it’s the same old problems following me.  But isn’t that what dating is about? Fucking up till you find the person that can live with your quirks, or finds it cute till one day it is too much and you are divorced and single and dating again.  Gawd, I went all dark there.

A trait that I love in men is sarcastic witty humour. And, I had not found a man with that till my late twenties and he was my first online date and crush.  His name was Sam…that’s his real name, but there is nothing in here that will pinpoint who he is.  I don’t even remember that many details now (wow, it’s been 10 years!).  Sam was in his mid- thirties to my mid to late-twenties – so we are at the same maturity level, ha. He was a reader, smart (did something in computers), cute in a geeky way and fuck-me, he was so witty sarcastic and I was ready to couple up.  I wasn’t aware that that was just my lust and desperation speaking.

We would chat online for a few months before meeting, due to time constraints and he was my first online meet up.  Watching all the true crime shows I did, I wanted to learn as much as I could about him.  We met at Chapters (Canadian bookstore), had coffee and walked around in a mall close by.  After an hour of banter and sexual energy we went back to my place and shared our first kiss (and later made out for a bit) on the couch.   When we both got the “this-could-be-more” vibe, I asked him to go.  He told me that   It would be the first and last time we met in person.

If Sam was a celebrity – google images

We would exchange MSN and emails (and even exchange Christmas cards) for a year more.  He didn’t want to get married and have kids.  I wasn’t sure if I did or didn’t, but also didn’t want to commit to an answer yet.  I wanted to get married.  Right or wrong, it was something I dreamed of since I was a kid.  It was the only thing that never wavered for me.  I think he saw that in me from the beginning and was careful with my feelings and when we stopped talking I had fond feelings for him.  I regret nothing.

Meeting Sam was amazing as it allowed me to see that there were witty men out there and the next one could be the one.  Spoiler alert: I learned there are witty men but they can hurt you just as much as the dull hot ones.  That maybe all that I wanted wasn’t something I would necessarily get.  Fuck love and lust can be a bitch!

Happy Holiday Singles!


Ahhhh, Christmas! The time for singles to feel more…single.  There are your well-meaning, yet brutal, family with their “are you still alone, not having a wedding or children?” There are your non-single friends attending non-single parties or having babies.  There is that guy/girl you have been talking you on Tinder that ghosts as she/he needs to be single single to meet other singles at parties, or in order to not have the pressure of “Christmas joy” hacking at the thin thread that has you tethered on Snapchat.  Or there is Match.com where the longing to have someone, anyone, has every one desperate and turning on stalker mode.

In the past few weeks, the men I met on Tinder few months ago have messaged to see “how I am doing”.  And, because I too am feeling that same loneliness, I dabble in the “hi-game”.  (More on this later).  So there is the maybe “this could be more” guy who is a nice guy BUT feels “intimidated” by meeting up.  He’s nervous and scared he might fuck it up BUT still really likes me.  The other fun storyline is my ex/bf/friend/complicated who has lied about something stupid in the past and is at the moment long distance.  I’ve given him many chances to get his shit together and well…we will see if he shows up for Christmas as he promised yet again.  Aaaaand, with my luck they will both want me or neither will.  And, I am too fucking sad and hurt to care about their feelings right now.

Well, back to the kitchen to work on Christmas Dinner.  I just wanted to write this post to those single women/men who are feeling alone and a bit desperate for some companionship.  You aren’t alone, but don’t settle.  Keep your chin up lovelies…we got this.

Blind Date #2 or Same Skin Shade Set-Up


The word was out…I was “willing” to go out on a blind date…aka same skin shade set up.  My mom gave my phone number to my aunt, who passed it on to a family friend’s friend (friend, etc, etc, etc).  One day while watching TV, my phone buzzed.  Thus started the weird odyssey with T.J. – because frankly there are way too many nicknames I could make up for this peach of a guy.

Thing started out pretty well…there were the standard interview questions via text, that soon followed up with awkward anecdotes over the phone. I wasn’t much for actually talking to someone on the phone, so I was already compromising, and feeling proud of myself.   His voice had that sort of “uuummm…yeah” kind tone that drove me nuts.  It wasn’t exactly an Indian/Canadian accent but a dialect that seems to have been picked up somewhere.  Things were going so well I almost forgot that I didn’t know what he looked like. Looks are important.  It’s not just if he’s hot (although that helps), but how the whole package is together.  Really, how bad could he really look? As I pondering these things, I heard the next question,

“Do you prefer indoor or outdoor chores?”

(Huh?) “Um, huh?”

“Like if we married would you want to do landscaping or housework?”

(By landscaping, I didn’t think he meant my grooming practices) “Weeeeelllll, I guess indoor.  I have allergies to pollen.”

“That makes sense. And what would be TV shows we would watch together?”

(Was this a trick question?) “Ummm, one that we both liked?”

“No, I mean we would watch a few things apart but on the whole we would be togther a lot.”

(WTF?) “We would?”

“Isn’t that what partnership is?”

(No!) “Well, I think that…”

No I didn’t want to do any fucking chores and never watch TV.  Wait, I didn’t have to actually be with this guy.

“How do you take your coffee?”

(Sigh…a safe question). “Black at this point.  I just recently found out I was lactose intolerant and with Type 2 diabetes in the family…”

“Wait, I’m sorry.  Your family has diabetes?”

“Well, yeah…don’t most Indian people now days” I chuckle.

“What if our kids get diabetes?”

(I’m sorry, when did we get married?) “Um then they would have diabetes and..”

“I have to think about this.”

I don’t say anything.  Was there anything to say.

“I just don’t want our kids to have diabetes.”

“Who says they will?”

“My sister-in-law, is a nurse, and she says that diabetes…”

Well, whoop dee fucking do, for the sister-in-law.  Seriously though, what is her name and the hospital she works at?  I am definitely not going there to be wrongly diagnosed.

“Yeah, okay…you should think about this and maybe do some research.  Bye”

Fifteen minutes later I received a text.

I’m sorry.  I looked it up & ur right blah fucking blah Can I make it up 2 u 7 take u out 4 coffee?

As my fingers hovered over the “n”, I responded with….

What if they did have diabetes? We would deal with it like all the other parents who have kids with diabetes.  There are so many things that could go wrong…we could both have genes that together can cause any number of illnesses.  For me the issue is that I want a partner that can deal with whatever comes.

After two minutes…

You are right.  Talk over coffee.


Everything in me wanted to say no, but then I thought, who the fuck was this guy? My curiosity to see him outweighed common sense. So a few days later, we met at Starbucks after work.  Not the same Starbucks as “mr-not-so-tall”, but in the heartland of where most Indian same skin shade set ups happen.  I get there early to pick my seat and run into a family friend (also Indian) – who is also on a date.  When T.J. comes in, while he was definitely taller, he was fucking bald.  Not, I think bald is a look for me, but prematurely balding.  Genetics my ass!!!!!!

I won’t EVEN bore you with the date…it was so yawn worthy I remember barely anything.  I did ask him if T.J. was something junior.  It’s just an abbreviation of his Indian name Something-jeet.  I really think I should receive a medal for keeping my thoughts in my head.  I reallllllllly wanted to say…you know baldness is genetics.  Our son is more likely to be bald than diabetic. All in all, it was just all very disappointing.  I could see why this dude who went on so many set-ups was still single. It wasn’t just his blandness, ignorance and arrogance but it was his “you either fit or you don’t” attitude.  His questions about marriage and family wasn’t to get to know who I was and see if we could come together as a couple and “some day” marry; rather he was asking me questions until one didn’t match up to his “correct” answer. While I would not go out on any further same skin shade set up again, my curiosity would get me in further adventures – good bad.

I promise the love and lust will now be coming after this post.








This is What Nice Gets You

happy ballot

After years of watching to many romantic movies, I assumed my one true love would bump into me, hilarity and obstacles would occur until finally love conquers all.  I would be 25 in this fantasy.  Engaged by 26, married by 27 or 28, giving me room to freak out at least twice before buckling down on wedding plans.  Alas I would 30 or 31 when I have my first child and then 4 years later try for number if the first one turned out okay.  Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaah, so I graduated at 25 with an Arts degree, and worked in jobs that didn’t have anything to do with my years of study.  When I finally found a job that I actually liked going to, I was 28.  Instead of planning for my wedding, or even dating someone seriously, I was attending my younger cousins’ weddings.

If I am honest with myself, and I rarely was at that time, I wasn’t happy or unhappy with my situation.  I wanted the love and intimacy of a relationship but the thought of marriage felt like a noose around my neck. It’s not the commitment that chokes me up but the “can anyone love anyone else forever?”  I have so many expectations on and for myself, that the idea of not meeting them has made me afraid to even try.

When no men fell at my feet looking for love and marriage I wasn’t exactly shocked as I have a RBV (Resting Bitch Vibe).  I am always sending out this “fuck off” vibe which I am sure I could not even try to turn off as I was born (or nurtured) with it 😉  One day, this lady, who is family friend (someone my mom knew from when there were 5 brown families living here), came over to drop off a wedding card.  Some how my aloofness was down and she could speak English so I felt more comfortable talking.  35 minutes later, I had a date with a “you two would get along so well” guy.  I asked, “oh, that’s great.  So tell me more about him, why do you think we would hit off?” Her answer, oh so concise, “He’s taller than you and was born here.”  Siiiiiiigh, the dream of falling of love, that crazy bitch, compelled me to pass on my number.  By the way, spoiler alert….he was NOT taller than me.

Do I have high hopes for this date? Well, I put on a nice shirt and mascara…so that’s some effort.  I was in doubt about the height thing, so went with the boots.  Before I leave for this date, my mom tells me to be nice, like she did when I started kindergarten,  “Please, for the love of God, just play nicely with others.  Not how you would with your cousins.”  “I am wounded that you would say that.” I feigned hurt.  She rolls her eyes, as my dad says “So, is she gonna be nice?”

We had arranged for a date at Starbucks, and had not really talked other than making plans for the date.  I arrive early and text that I am in line.  I get my camomile tea as I found it soothing for my anxiety, except this time it wouldn’t work. Mr. Not-so-tall guy arrived wearing sunglasses, and never took them off.  As he got closer he only got smaller.  When he was like a few feet away from me I could see the sweat glistening on his receding hairline. As he got even closer I could see the top of his head without lifting my gaze.  He orders himself an ice tea and asked if I was okay with my hot drink.  I thought it was nice of him to ask if I wanted anything else.  Oh, Kay, how sweet you are.  He would proceed to ask me this question a few times.  It was a summer day, and he could not fathom a normal person having a hot drink.  He would chug two cold drinks, wiping his sweat, and throwing questions at me like a dart game. Then proceed to cut me off with his opinion…and yet I would say he was not a talkative guy.  It was like he had “practice” a conversation and would keep going regardless of my answer.  He didn’t get any of my jokes, or sarcasm…and worse he had no sense of humour.  He talk about cars, status and what he expected from a spouse.  As the conversation kept going, I started to down my drink, scolded throat or not and then excused myself with other plans.  He did not walk me to my car even though he parked close by, or check to see if I made it home okay.

“Were you nice?” My mom called out.

“Too nice!”

He would go on to tell his father that I wasn’t well to-do and not an appropriate choice for a wife. EX-cuuuuuuse me, he tells his father, who tells my aunt, who tells my mom who tells me.  I’m SO-rrieeeeee was this elementary school dating?  Fuck, the sad thing is I would go on another blind date set up by family.  See, I tried brown guys.  I focused on them hard.  Attracted or not, I knew it would be easier on everyone if I dated and married brown.  Yet, dating within in my race has not been the same as dating within in my culture.  I barely fit in my family, with my interests and attitudes.  The best thing about my family is that they get that I am weird and may call me that, but anyone else says it, well, that’s a whole other thing. My aunt told my mom, “who needs that kind of boring and stupid with our starlight.” Family, gosh darnit 🙂