Romance is not dead my friends. But it should be.

Okay, I'm committed to write in this thing at least once a month and this is the September edition, even though it happened many months ago.

The dating stories seem to amuse everyone the most so I go back to the original purpose of this blog. To entertain everyone with the trials of being a single girl who really doesn't want that to change.

So, many months ago I met a guy who had the alarm bells clanging almost immediately. For one thing, he told me within minutes that he was a "hopeless romantic". I told him I'm not particularly keen on getting to know anyone who describes themselves as "hopeless" in any sense.

And yet a few days later I found myself being "whisked away" (his words, not mine) in a 20 year old caddy convertible. We pick up some take out sushi in Kits and head to Spanish Banks. When we get there, he opens his enormous car trunk and it's crammed with everything! Blankets, cutlery, wine and I'm pretty sure I could've found a body somewhere in there if we dug around. I didn't look too closely. Anyway, we grab a couple of blankets, wine and his picnic basket Okay, WTF? What kind of man drives around with a freaking picnic basket in his trunk? But I digress.

So the date is us sitting on the beach eating, talking and waiting to watch the sun set.

Romantic, huh? Yeah, you'd think.

It was really unfortunate that Dude had virtually no conversation skills. After about 45 minutes of rambling I decided I didn't give a toss and just sat in peaceful silence. After all, it's rare these days that I'm not in front of my computer so I decided to enjoy the time off and just relax.

Well, I guess this made him uncomfortable so he opened his mouth and started talking.

After a few progressively stupid questions like "When was the last time you got drunk?" (He met me at the bar three days prior...while I was drunk) and "What's EA?" (He works in technology in Vancouver!!!), he caps it off with an absolute humdinger.
By now I've checked out and his voice is but a minor irritating buzz in my ear but then I catch what he's saying about a regressive movement of women. I perked up and asked what he meant by that. His response? "One of these days, you women are going to get sick of the rat race and return to the home." I stared at him in blank shock and finally squeaked out "You mean, we'll leave our jobs and be more content being pregnant and in the kitchen"? He answers, "Well, maybe not pregnant". And that sad, sad twat was utterly serious.

Remember how I mentioned that I was at Spanish Banks? Well, for those of you who don't know where that is, it's in a fairly remote area and there wasn't a hope in hell of me finding a cab. I can NOT believe I made the rookie mistake of getting stuck!!! He picked me up at 6 and the sun didn't frickin' set until 10 that night. Longest damned date of my life.

In case you may be thinking that I was a bit harsh on him, the dumb ass actually had the gall to call me for a second date. I'm still not sure if that's courageous or sheer stupidity. But I was too busy with my cooking classes. Had to get ready for my regressive movement after all.