|My new dating policy|
I wanted to believe that this time it might be different. That instead of frogs, I'd finally find a prince. Hell, I don't need a prince, I just need someone with a job, a car, a sense of humor, and no current wife/girlfriend...oh, and manners. It turns out manners are important, too. (And a visa. More on that later.)
I actually had a date last week. I had been chatting with a nice, polite fellow with a great sense of humor. We agreed to meet for a drink at a local pub. Plans were made, times were set, and I set off ten minutes early just to be sure I was at our designated meeting place in the lobby, right on time. I was there early, but there was no sign of him. I waited. I watched people come and go. I sat alone, nervous, and wondering if I'd been stood up.
Fifteen minutes later, I get an email asking me where I was. I replied I was in the lobby, waiting for him. His response? Apparently he'd biked in earlier and was having a second beer inside already, come find him. I was relieved he wasn't a no-show, but perturbed by his lack of manners. Not to mention his failure to offer and come find me. Now I had to venture into a dim, crowded pub and try to spot a man I had only seen in pictures. I have blue hair...I'm not hard to spot., Him? As it turned out, he was tucked into a back corner, and despite making three walk-throughs I couldn't find him...and he let me walk past him twice. Finally, I texted him and asked him to come find me...and he did.
Not a stellar beginning. We did manage to have a nice time, light chatting over a drink and nachos. He even paid, which was unexpected. As we're leaving, we both head for the elevator, and then suddenly he says "gotta hit the head," and vanishes on me. No goodbye, no nothing. I'm at a loss. Was I ditched? Did he want me to stay? I stuck around a few minutes (back in the dreaded lobby) and he reappeared only to say "oh, you're still here."
Unsurprisingly, he never contacted me again, despite saying we'd chat later.
And then...came the software engineer. Lovely pictures. Well written contact email. Nice smile. Honest about the fact he's in a wheelchair. We start chatting, and then I learn that there's a reason he's looking to date. Actually, date isn't the right word. Marry. That's the word. Why? Because he's not Canadian. He's from Nigeria and will soon be required to return there if he doesn't find a way to stay in the country. Like, oh, by finding a Canadian wife. Fast.
Toss in a used car salesman whose opening line was "hey beautiful, want to compare tattoos? and ended with an offer to meet for a drink at ten at night that same evening? And you can see why I've opted to be single a while longer.
I'm still a hopeful romantic, but I've hit my frog quota for the season. I'll try again next year.