Steph Not Stephanie

Hello, it’s me. I mean, of course it’s me, it’s my blog, who did you come here for? If the answer is, ‘Guest bloggers, duh,’ then it’s your lucky day! The ever-patient Bogart has written a post, which scared the ever-loving shit out of me. Seriously, I don’t know how anyone agreed to date me over the years, knowing I was writing about them. Good grief. 

How to Ruin Toronto’s Most Prominent Dating Blog in 5 Easy Steps

Hey, everyone. For the three of you who are still reading this blog ever since Steph started dating me, you may know me as Bogart. From what I understand, a lot of Steph’s habitual readers have told her that ever since we started dating, her blog has gotten more and more boring. Also, at least ten people a day approach me on the street and ask me, “Bogart, what’s your secret? How do you singlehandedly alienate a fan base who clamours and begs for hilarious and tragic dating stories from Toronto’s cutest blue-haired blogger?” Well, you’re in luck! Today I decided to outline my nefarious five-step plan on how to bring down StephNotStephanie.com from the inside.

Step 1: Plant an actor to “crash” your first date in order to make a memorable story.

You may recall that Steph’s blog entry about our first date mentioned a drunk co-worker of mine who happened to be at the same bar. He didn’t know we were on our first date, so he decided to join us, along with some Paris Hiltonesque drunk girl whose voice reminded me of a creaky door from a spooky Halloween sounds tape. Full disclosure: Aaron, my co-worker, and his hanger-on were paid actors to pretend to know me and crash our date. Aaron’s real name is Gavin Barble, and he’s an aspiring Torontonian actor. Pay attention to the upcoming season of Game of Thrones; you may recognize him as Dirty Bearded Peasant Who Gets Horribly Murdered Somehow #233!

Step 2: Have a lot of things in common, but not too many things.

It’s great to have common interests. In fact, I’d say it’s necessary for a relationship to work. Opposites don’t really attract. Luckily, Steph and I have a lot in common. Stephen King, and horror in general? Check. Drinking? Check. Cooking delicious food? Check. An affinity for reading and watching movies? Check and check. Music? Well… I’ll be the first to admit that the majority of music I listen to is unpalatable to most people. At first, Steph didn’t believe me that Leftover Crack was a real band, and when I showed her their song “Atheist Anthem” she asked me if I was going to murder her in her sleep. I told her I wasn’t, of course. Unfortunately, this evening she told me she was going to tell everyone that I was a closet Miley Cyrus fan on her blog, so I may have to re-evaluate. (Editor’s note: Let the record show he outed himself.)

Step 3: Convince her that she actually loves doing things she doesn’t like doing.

Steph told me she really, really didn’t like cuddling. I believe that, in one blog post, she compares it to “being in a fleshy prison” and would send her into a claustrophobic panic attack. This had me worried, because I love me some cuddlin’. Turns out I had nothing to worry about, because she really loves cuddling with me! What’s my secret?

Deferasirox tablets!

If you’re not familiar, these little bad boys are for people who have too much iron in their blood. They’re also great for unsuspecting girlfriends who will want to cuddle up to you and steal your warmth once their iron levels are lower than usual. So I slip a tablet or two in to Steph’s tea or wine when she’s not paying attention, and after a while, she can’t get enough snuggling! Are there any terrible side effects? Maybe! I don’t know, do I look like a doctor?

Step 4: Be funny, but like, not-funny funny.

I remember watching Who Framed Roger Rabbit? as a kid, and I recall a scene where Eddie Valiant asks Jessica Rabbit why she’s married to Roger. She replied with, “He makes me laugh.” That left an impression on me: ladies love a funny guy. However, I’m a firm believer of “quantity over quality,” so I’m constantly bombarding Steph with bad jokes. Like, really bad jokes. I’m talking jokes that your dad would be ashamed to make while he’s burning hotdogs on a barbecue while your friends are over. I can’t think of any one particular joke that’s stood out, because could an astronomer point out their favourite star? Probably, because they’re huge nerds. Either way, remember: it still counts as a good joke if you get a laugh, even if they shake their head and roll their eyes afterwards. (Editor’s note: I’ve managed to pre-empt about three terrible jokes before they happened. The other 7,893,349 made it to the open air.)

Step 5: Don’t be an asshole.

I sincerely hope that all of you realize that this whole blog entry has been a joke. I’m fucking crazy about Steph, and from what I’ve experienced with her, she’s crazy about me, too. I love spending time with her, whether we stay at home and binge Netflix shows, go out for dinner and drinks, or go see a movie. Admittedly, none of these activities make for good blog entries. I’d apologize, but Mama Bogart didn’t raise no liar. She also didn’t raise an asshole. I try to be a good boyfriend. I don’t stand her up, I return texts, and I actually look like my profile picture (which is more than I can say for Steph… She is in fact not a purple dinosaur in real life, much to my disappointment). I guess I can cook pretty well, and I’m a great Big Spoon, and a decent Little Spoon. Hey, sometimes a guy likes to feel safe.

So, to the diehard fans of StephNotStephanie.com, I say: Sorry, not sorry. I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, so you’ll have to go elsewhere for cringe-worthy Tinder date stories. I adore Steph, and I’ll trade your amusement for her happiness any day. I’ve suggested going on dates where either one or both of us would surely have a bad time, just so she’d have good blog fodder. However, I feel that since Steph’s pretty much down to do anything, I think that it may mostly focus on my misery, since I can be a surly whine-bag much easier than she can. At the very least, we could change the blog name to MakingBogartMiserable.com. You’d all read that, right?