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Thrusters for time, pull-ups for time, dating for time? Eunice herself is looking for love!

Welcome to the Bathroom Graffiti website. Normally this site is going to be about you, about the inspirational, the funny, the impressive, and the ridiculous things that are going on in your lives, inside and outside of the school. But first, I have something I need to do. Ever since I began my Looking for Love series, people have been saying, "Eunice, you're looking for love. Feature yourself." There has been a lot of pressure put on me to put myself out there, so without further ado, Eunice is Looking for Love. Get Eunice off the Internet and back into the real world of dating! image Someone once told me that love is found in the strangest places, so I started going to the strangest places I could think of to look for it. Then someone else insisted that I stop looking, that love finds you when you least expect it. The problem is I’m always looking, and I’m always expecting. I wasn’t always this desperate-sounding. Back in high school, life was simple; I didn’t know the meaning of the verb to flirt, and the closest thing I had to a boyfriend was my basketball. There I am in my high school graduation picture with my basketball under my arm. Ignorance certainly was bliss. But somewhere along the way, I started craving romance just like the next person. Eunice was growing up.I started to date, had a couple short-lived boyfriends along the way, but they came so few and far between. Since my life is lived like a WOD – 3, 2, 1 Go – I naturally wanted to speed things up. So I turned to the Internet, where I discovered dating could, indeed, be like a CrossFit workout. I essentially started dating for time. There were days where I met two or three men back-to-back-to back. I learned to go on lunch and coffee dates instead of dinner or drink dates because usually you weren’t into the person, and a dinner is way too big of an investment for that kind of risk. I was careful to order a small coffee on date number one knowing that I might be heading to the Starbucks down the street in 30 minutes for another date. I saw everything imaginable – high talkers, close talkers, stalkers and dimension liars: the first guy I ever met forgot to mention how he shrunk four inches and gained 50 pounds since his pictures. I won’t tell all the stories on here, but the nicknames that I gave some of these men after various dating adventures give you an idea of the kinds of evenings I had: there was The Stratford Stripper, Web Cam Wonder Boy, The Enthusiastic Hand Holder, The Bucket Boy, The Slow Mover, The Dutch Sensation, The Premature Abbreviator, The West Van Program Man, The Peanut Butter Deliverer, The Persistent Texter, Quasimodo, The Blitzkrieg Kisser, The Pretend Athlete, and The Runway Model. Rest assured, I’m not entirely heartless with my sometimes less than flattering nicknames; I learned about rejection too. I had my share of mild disappointments and major heartbreaks along the way, as well. (As a sidenote, it’s entirely possible that I, too, am completely undatable). And I have to say, it wasn’t all bad. I know there’s a stigma against online dating, but the truth is it’s exactly like the real world: full of people we do not want to date. But also like the real world, every now and again a good one comes along. A boyfriend or two and a couple good friends emerged from places like craigslist (yes, craigslist), plenty of fish, lavalife, fitness singles, the list goes on. In all honesty, the cyber world taught me how to date. A few short years before, I had been an awkward 18-year-old dressed in unflattering, sac-like basketball shorts, who felt intimidated by the concept of a date. Not that I’m a seasoned pro now, but I have figured out a way to effortlessly monologue my way through most first date situations. But then I got carried away, like all true crossfitters usually do. I wanted to take things up a notch, to make things even more challenging for myself. I felt that I had mastered the art of serial dating, so I set myself on a reckless search for a husband (it seemed logical at the time). That’s when I started my book. Although an agent has yet to show interest, it’s ambitiously titled The Year of the Groom. Let’s put it this way – the year of the groom, which was originally 2009, came and went and nobody noticed but me. I’ve since simmered my groom aspirations and have decided that I’m no longer looking for a husband, just a man masquerading with moderate groom potential. Getting to the point, I’d like to get off the Internet and back into the real world again, but the only people I seem to meet are at the school. And as many of you know, clearly I have already struck out there. So set me up. This isn’t a joke. So far, it seems that nobody takes this Looking for Love series seriously. Most of you know me, so you can tell this mystery man whatever you like about me. (Maybe leave out the part about the groom pursuit. I hear that scares men away). Email blind date potentials to: punky@crossfit.ca. With your help, back to the real world I go!