This blogpost is longer than the actual date.
I once matched with this dude on this very creepy app that matches you by location. It tracks your whereabouts and shows people you’ve crossed paths with: if you were walking on the same street at similar times or visited a certain coffee shop, etc.
So.
This dude and I are talking. I’m already not in the mood, I’m only on these apps because my ex has moved on and I’m trying to catch up. And this particular week, I remember, there was this massive ice storm in Montreal which cut off the electricity in my house.
Luckily, I had a friend nearby who said Miko and I can crash on his couch, so that’s what we did.
I'm getting dry, meaty energy from this man. If he has a sense of humour, I can't visualise it. He asks me out. I say sure. I have nothing to lose. (I did, actually, but that’s whole other psychological uncovering).
I say yes because all my hope is already nearly dead.
The day arrives. I REALLY don't want to go. But I’d already said yes. I tell myself there’s no real harm, that all the pressure I’m feeling is just coming from within and that I can just go with the flow.
I ask him where he wants to meet, and we agree somewhere in his neighbourhood. I ask him if he has a specific place in mind. He says, “Why don’t we meet at so-and-so corner and walk around till we find a place where we want to sit.”
My response is not one of joy.
It would be years later that I'd do my research (now), and discover that many women feel similarly about this, "Let's walk around till we find somewhere": there is something awkward about walking side by side with someone you don’t know. Navigating direction and small talk simultaneously. Especially if the purpose is not walking, like a hike or a festival.
No eye contact, you have to kind of decide via body language whether to take a left or keep walking straight.
I politely ask him if he has a favourite spot, perhaps we can meet there directly. He says he doesn’t know of many, but that I am welcome to do the research and see if I like a bar to meet at.
I could do a quick google search and spend the next nine minutes sending him links. At this point, I’m just exhausted. I sigh, roll my eyes, and concede. He doesn’t see the eye rolling part. Or the sighing.
I have a very distinct memory of being at the turnstile and not wanting to pass through it. I call my friend and tell him I want to come home. "Well, you're already there," he says, "Just meet him. And if you're not having fun, just come back."
I sighed and walked over to the corner where this guy told me to meet him.
It was an ugly corner.
It was cold AF.
If you live in Montreal, or eastern Canada, you will know: it was that week in March or April that had you fooled. The climate had shown you spring a week earlier but now we are back to ice storms and sharp winds and all that good stuff.
Anyway, I see that I’m at the corner of the UQAM building, and if I just move one street over, then it’s still very cold but at least the ground is glittering and there’s a beautiful church, instead of garbage and constructions and hobos I’m currently looking at.
Forget planning a date in his own neighbourhood. The man can’t even pick a nice corner for me to wait in.
It showed m a lot of things: that perhaps he’s a homebody, that he’s not adventurous, and that he’s probably dull. Or serious.
Mind you, if we were meeting in my area, I already have a few spots in mind that I’d throw out as options. So before you come at me, I feel like I pull my end of the deal in that department. (Also, as women we do enough, but that's a whole other blogpost).
He shows up. I smile politely. We do that half hug and he says, “Shall we?” He apologises for making me wait in the cold. I say it’s okay. I feel bad that HE feels bad, and so I downplay my state.
Then he asks me, “So where are you from?”
I take a deep breath and give him my spiel, “I’m recently came from Turkey, but I was born and raised in Pakistan and I’ve also lived here and in Toronto before”
And then he says, “Ah, interesting.”
To me that’s not interesting. It’s not the moon. But fine, I accept that’s what it looks like to other people when I tell them my life story.
And he continues, “How long have you been here?”
And as I open my mouth to give him my scripted answer to his scripted question, I feel heavy sinking in my chest. I'm about to vomit or cry or both at the same time.
I turn and say to him, “I’m so sorry. I really want to be home right now."
He mumbles, "Okay, sure."
I turn around to go back to the metro. I wish I could say I felt relief, but I mostly just felt bad and guilty and mean.
And then I come home and my friend has dinner ready, and it’s really warm and nice and it’s exactly where I want to be. And my cat is there too.
Look. This story is a message to people:
If all this small talk were happening in a warm seat, while our cocktails were on their way, I’d have far higher tolerance for them. The date would have lasted much longer.
Also, the reason I mentioned the setting and my state of mind is to tell you that the odds WERE against this guy. As someone who didn’t already want to be there, he made it easy for me to leave. Maybe if the weather was nice, or if my mood were chirpier, I’d have sucked up the walk to our spontaneous destination.
Tell me in the comments, if you agree: how many of you are turned off by, “Let’s meet somewhere and walk around” kind of date? How many if you prefer if the guy has a place in mind? By the way, it’s different, if he picks a place and it’s too crowded or there’s a line or it’s closed. But I’m talking about meeting a stranger in the middle of the street and “figuring it out”. I don’t think I’d even do that on a Bumble BFF date or a work or project collaboration. Why do you think that is?
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