Moving on at first proved to be... a very difficult process. Some times when I think I didn't want to move on, others when I doubt I even could. I was beginning to doubt myself and my abilities to feel something special for someone again.
And then he stepped in.
He renewed confidence in me. He pushed my boundaries and past my comfort zone. He helped me take a step forward to something so wonderful.
Ladies and Gents I want to thank Mark for being a nosy bastard who can't keep his own business to himself.
For it not for him, I wouldn't have just spent the weekend with a guy so great I met on a local dating website that Mark made me sign up to.
He's amazing.
He's the perfect blend of dork, hot and cute all in one. Bashful and unaware that he has such an amazing body (which is good because there isn't any way by conventional means that I could get a guy THIS hot) and a quirky personality that looks at the world differently. I believe our first conversation consisted about arguing over Canadian Geese vs American geese. Or trees. Probably both.
That's his only fault, that he's American. But he lives about an hour over the border, so a 3/4 hour car trip certainly beats an 8 hour plane ride.
The weekend consisted of me commenting on American Mailboxes and how epic and straight from the TV they are, eating cookie dough at 5 am with one his friends, wrestling against him and said friend to try and get back a piece of paper (apparently Canadian women are freakishly strong
), popping my Halo Cherry by playing my first ever game with him and mostly being surrounded by 4 Americans who proceeded to throw words at me for 2 hours, trying to find things that I said differently or weird... or just generally taking the piss for me being Canadian.
haaahm.
And we made out a lot.
And then he stepped in.
He renewed confidence in me. He pushed my boundaries and past my comfort zone. He helped me take a step forward to something so wonderful.
Ladies and Gents I want to thank Mark for being a nosy bastard who can't keep his own business to himself.

He's amazing.

That's his only fault, that he's American. But he lives about an hour over the border, so a 3/4 hour car trip certainly beats an 8 hour plane ride.
The weekend consisted of me commenting on American Mailboxes and how epic and straight from the TV they are, eating cookie dough at 5 am with one his friends, wrestling against him and said friend to try and get back a piece of paper (apparently Canadian women are freakishly strong


And we made out a lot.
