I have a friend who I will call Kirsten because she reminds me of Kirsten Wiig, both in appearance and in humoristic talent.
One day, Kirsten was complaining that a dude she’d met wasn’t really bringing his A-game to the whole dating concept. He kept suggesting very mediocre blah restaurants, and didn’t seem to get the hint when she recommended much yummier (similarly priced) restaurants; nor did he notice, after hanging out with her a few times, that she was a definite foodie. In short, if they couldn’t even get their tastebuds aligned, what hope was there for the future?
In attempting to cheer her up, I told her the story of Sweatpants. In the Hall of Dating Mishaps, he reigns supreme.
How this all started
Like the rest of all single and many non-single people, I do online dating. It is definitely a worthwhile experience: usually hilarious, sometimes very disturbing, and generally ineffective. I’m hooked.
Off-topic #1: How did I get into online dating, you might wonder? I was at a 5à8-9-10 with my entire office, and a friend/colleague of mine, Adriana, decided to not use her indoor-voice as she tipsily told me: “WE SHOULD ONLINE DATE, WHY DON’T WE ONLINE DATE? WE ARE BOTH FABULOUS AND CUTE AND AWESOME AND DEM BOYZ WOULD BE LUCKY TO DATE US. CAN WE ONLINE DATE? LETS SIGN UP RIGHTRIGHTNOWRIGHTHERE, PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE?” The only way to stop the entire office from hearing this one-sided discussion was to agree. You could say I got peer-pressured into it. Fast forward three months, and Adriana quit online dating because she was “so over it”.
The warning signs
This one time, I stumbled upon a profile of a lawyer, a good-looking chap in a suit, with a profile that was free of grammatical errors and typos. Proper use of a comma? Romantic!!
Off-topic #2: I do love me a good suit. A well-cut suit projects power, assertiveness, intelligence and competence, and hides many physical flaws. This is a good thing, until you are trying to assess someone’s body type and appearance via photos. Suits then allow for misleading marketing.
Going back to lawyer dude, we struck up an online conversation, and our personalities clicked, or so I thought. After the usual back and forth, we agreed to meet. The plan: he was going to meet me on a friday night, after I finished my training at my G gym, and we were to have drinks and foodstuffs, and maybe play a game of pool.
So far, nothing out of the ordinary, yes? Yes. I cannot be held responsible for being blindsided.
The day of the date, I was talking to Adriana, giving her an update of my online dating, and I decided to show her lawyer’s pics. Small world: turns out she knew him. So I asked for details, what was he like?
“Uuuuuuuuuuuum, he’s, um, he’s nice. He’s really nice.”
That’s it? Gimme another adjective other than nice, Adriana, please! Gimme some hope!
“Ummm, well, he’s smart, right? He has to be, he is a lawyer!”
Now that, ladies and gents, has got to be the best lead-up to a blind date. No qualms whatsoever.
At the appointed hour, freshly showered post workout, and dressed all cute, I waited for Lawyer. And waited. And waited. And then realised that the dude staring at me intently from across the street wearing slightly too-short old-school sweatpants and comfortable New Balance sneakers and a windbreaker and a neck gaiter was Lawyer.
Like a moth to a flame, I was irresistably drawn towards the inevitable impending train wreck. And boy, what a train wreck:
- We walked up St-Laurent and down St-Urbain. He had come by bicycle, so he walked beside me holding his bike.
- We stopped at several drink spots, before finding one that suited his requirements of crowd, music, loudness, menu and coolness factor. Each time we stopped, he would spend 5-10 mins searching for the appropriate place to lock his bike and would fret about the odds of it being stolen.
- He lectured me that one of the biggest civil rights issues in Canada right now is the legalization of marijuana.
- After he’d periodically interrupted me, I asked him if he always cut off the sentences on his first date, and lectured the girl instead of having a discussion? His answer: there was no point in discussing, he already knew what I was going to say and I was wrong.
Kirsten, stop your complaining. Your dude wears real pants. What more do you want?