Mmm. Yummy fermented mustard. It will perhaps forever remind me of hot dogs and hot dog toppings and, of course, #veganguy and this not-so-terrible-but-pretty-annoying date.

It’s time for my online dating adventure series to make its return. Yep, I’m willing to make that sacrifice haha. For the sake of content, humour, recipes, clever hashtags. Not because I WANT to start online dating again. Ugh. Consider it more of a social experiment, while also having some fun, and finding humour in the most ridiculous things, with the possibility I will at least make friends, and maybe meet someone worth dating. Or shagging. Whichever comes first.

Back in the spring, after a somewhat abrupt end to a relationship that kept me off online dating, (and may have been its most redeeming quality), I was slightly pissed off, and decided to try some Angry Tindering.

What is Angry Tindering?

Well, it’s really fun. It’s more fun than actual Tindering. Because you don’t give a fuuuuuuuuck. (And yeah, “tindering” is now a verb.) So I was Angry Tindering, in response to ending a thing with someone I thought I kinda loved. And it was pretty fun because I really took the piss with most of my matches.

“Oh, the only word you apparently know is “lol”.” UNMATCH.

“Oh, you want to see a full-body shot do you? But only if I’m not wearing clothes? Here is a photo of my cat.” UNMATCH.

“Oh, you forgot to spell.” “Oh, you don’t know English grammar, apparently.” “Oh, instead of properly finding the use for your/you’re, you will just use yer.” UNMATCH.

“Oh! Oh my. That is your penis.” UNMATCH

“Oh, your name is Love Child?” UNMATCH

Then #veganguy came along…

I mean, he was really nice. He was obviously intelligent. He was pretty cute, or so his photos portrayed. We even had a mutual FB friend. He had kids. This all seemed like a good idea. Sort of.

As far as the pre-date texts went, he had a LOT to say. Like, not just a little bit to say. Each text was like receiving a goddam email. “Please #veganguy! Can you at least put spaces in your text. Or hit send every once in awhile. I just can’t read those many words at once.” Like, how can I even describe it. Three phone screens worth of text in ONE GODDAMN TEXT. Exhausting.

But he just had so much to say. So passionate. So involved in the world. So at least he gave a shit about something. There’s that.

Anyway, I just had this feeling we were meant to only be friends. There was nothing sexy about his rants. But he was nice. And I agreed to go on a date. I was going to hang with some girlfriends in London anyway. So I thought, what the hell.

We met at their house, where I’d parked my car, and we walked the 25 minutes to the bar we were going to have a drink. I was right — he was cute. There was immediately ZERO physical chemistry, but the kind of chemistry you feel for someone who might be your friend. We walked, and he talked. And talked. And talked. And talked. By the time we got to the bar, I knew more about his feelings in 25 minutes than I ever knew about the feelings of the recent ex (or whatever he was).

We sat on the bar patio, where they had a delightful selection of beers. I was already exhausted from listening to him go on and on, so I drank said beers with gusto. This guy was VERRRRRRRRRY political. He had just moved from the west coast, where they care about things. He cared about LOTS of things. When he discovered I was a nutritionist, he went on and on and on about when he was vegan. So when the waitress came I looked at her with a bit of desperation and said: “I’ll have the hotdog please.”

Yes, as he continued to go on about being an active, political vegan, I ordered and ate a hot dog. That STILL DID NOT SHUT HIM UP.

So we are about 20 minutes into the bar part of the date when I say: “Um, you don’t mind if my friend joins us, do you?”

#veganguy staring at me — silent for the first time since meeting him: “Um, I guess not.”

hahahahahaha. So yes, my friend Anna JOINED my date. Essentially #veganguy went on a date with both of us. I was so relieved. She arrived and sort of took over. She is one smart cookie, and fairly political in her own way. It was really a relief to have someone there for him to divert his attention to. I could finally relax.

Needless to say, we all went for very-late-night pizza and walked home. He invited me to stay over. I politely declined. I guess hot dogs and friend invites were too subtle.

The best part about this entire story is this next part.

The next morning Anna and I went to our other friend MG’s place of work to eat brunch. We sat at the bar, watching MG make smoothies and cappuccinos, ate yummy food, and told her all about the date we had just gone on together. There was a couple sitting next to us. The girlfriend went to the loo. The boyfriend turned to me and said: “By any chance, did you go on a date with a guy named #veganguy last night?”


Of all the people on the entire earth, the guy who sat next to me at brunch was the co-worker of my date the night before. He recognized me from my Tinder photos. He asked me how it went. hahahhaha.

“Oh, you know. He’s very nice. He likes to talk. A LOT. He has a lot to say about a lot of things.”

And he responded with an eye roll: “Tell me about it.”

And then I introduced him to Anna, who I had dragged along with me on my date (and who will forever fill this role if I need her to — right Anna?).

The world is so very small. I need to remember that.

And it got smaller still. Two weeks passed and MG messaged me. She finally saw a photo of #veganguy and apparently SHE HAD gone on a date with him, also — two weeks before me. hahahaahahahaha.


And she had the same things to say about him. She, however, considered seeing again — until she looked up his band and decided they were terrible she wanted him to never contact her ever again.

So essentially MG, Anna and I had all gone on a date with the same dude. A dude that on paper seemed passionate about all the same things as us: music, environment, political issues. Yet sometimes, when you cannot shut up about your “passions” for one second, you are really just annoying AF.

With that said, he and I have stayed friends (kinda — maybe unless he reads this blog post). So if any of you single ladies like a man that cares about lots of things, but doesn’t shut up, I’ll pass your number along.

In the meantime, my “break” is over, my Angry Tindering is no longer necessary, and I’m ready to begin this adventure series again with gusto. Tinder, here I come. With zero expectations, and a need for a whole lot of blog material.

And now I give you my #veganguy inspired #1 HOT DOG TOPPING of choice… Mustard. Fermented Mustard, at that. xo

Fermented (Hot Dog) Mustard 

I’ve made loads of fermented mustards. Some more dijon style. Some with whole seeds. Some spicy. Usually made with whey. HOWEVER… the best kind of Fermented Mustard for hotdogs is the prepared kind. You know what I mean. The super yellow cheap stuff you often used as child for all your mustard things — only way better. 

This takes no time to make, also. No soaking, etc. So it’s perfect for a quick mustard. 

  • 1/2 cup yellow mustard, ground
  • 1/3 cup raw cider vinegar
  • 1/2 tsp sea salt
  • 1/2 tsp turmeric (ooooo that yellow colour)
  • a couple Tbsp water, if needed

Mix everything together and transfer to a small jar with a lid. Allow it to ferment on the counter for 2 to 4 days. Transfer to the fridge and it will last ages.