People on the West Coast are just as interesting as the scenery.
For example:
In my four weeks here, I have been mercilessly pimped out.
One friend and her friend and her friends' friends have this unnatural fascination with an Ontario girl moving West.
"Fresh meat" they called me. (Oh, why thank you.)
Apparently, being fresh meat is a good thing.
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Side note:
For those of you who know me and my staunch feminist ways, you'll understand the underlying sarcasm throughout this whole piece.
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PIMPIN' OUT #1:
"You're SO west coast," one of them said. "I know the perfect guy for you."
(He turned out to be some rock n' roll wannabe guitarist who couldn't hold a conversation and was eager for me to be his groupie. I was dreadfully bored.)
PIMPIN' OUT #2
"Oh, this guy will TOTALLY love you. You're SO cute and naive," said one friend tickled with excitement.
"Do I have to?" I pleaded with a huge sigh and dramatics.
(Apparently, I did.)
He turned out to be having a love affair with money and was fiercely critical of my "work to live" policy and my passionate commitment to earning money to spend on the things that make me happy and fulfill my life. He was more of a "stuff" kind of guy. He liked to show it off. Apparently, owning a nice car makes you a good catch (who knew?).
Still, even after our obvious lack of connection over every single belief we each had, he says:
"Wanna see my Porsche?"
I raised an eyebrow in disgust.
"Girls love it." (oooh! ahhh! Well if "girls" love it...)
"I'd rather not," I said, chugging back my beer in hopes that an alcohol-induced coma would save me from this idiot and his fat wallet. I stumbled home unimpressed but full on a nice cedar plank grilled Salmon fillet.
PIMPIN' OUT #3:
"This guy is SO hot Kim. You'll just die!" shrieked one painfully annoying girl whom I hope never becomes my friend.
Sure, he was nice to look at. But he was, predictably, a Himbo. Dumb as a rock. In love with himself. Zero personality. And I get bored with chiseled features after a while. In fact, I get bored with them after 3 minutes and 54 seconds to be exact.
Lack of personality, heart, and humilty make people ugly in my mind.
He was dreadfully appauling after four minutes. I couldn't stand to look at him.
I made an excuse to leave and did. A record exit that I prided myself on because I was able to call up a friend and hit a few golf balls before the evening was out! Success!
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And so this has gone on for four weeks. Bachelor after bachelor. All this time that I can't seem to get back. Seems like such a waste. I've been able to thwart off most of these suitors thanks to my general disinterest in the dating scene and in dating for the sake of dating just to say you're dating. Really now... I have much better things to do than sell strangers on why I'm prime dating material. Please. I'd rather grab a beer with someone that already thinks I'm cool and whom I already believe to be fantastic.
Of course, this attitude has dismayed my new friends who were keen to sell my assets all summer long.
"What a bore, you are." They've playfully said.
"You're too picky."
"I'm particular," I said coyly. "I have no interest at all in spending time with people whose qualities I don't admire."
To them, this means that I have instantaneously deteriorated my boy opportunities out here by nearly half. One even ventured to guestimate that I've eliminated 98% of the pool by my attitude alone (gasp!), and apparently that is a dating shame.
Personally, I'm not too worried about the odds.
I have more pressing things to think about, like what mountain I am going to climb tomorrow...
