He invited me over for dinner, but his house was strange . . .
Stephanie is a 37-year-old professor and consultant who lives in the west end. She says “I consider myself attractive, over-educated, clever, genuine and something of a badass for all of the bucket-list items I’ve been crossing off over the last few years.”
She likes dining out, wine, attending professional events and entertaining, adding “I’m a confident extrovert.” Stephanie says “I don’t make time to date a lot, but ultimately I’d like to meet someone who is smart, sincere and attractive. It may be a cliché, but I want to find someone I can see myself growing old with.”
Winston and I met online, but he happened to work in a field related to mine. He was good-looking, but the commonality was what immediately caught my interest.
We went on several dates. Winston made me laugh and we put each other at ease, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep seeing him.
Then he called me, several days in advance, and asked if he could cook me dinner at his place that Saturday night. I had an event to go to the next day, and didn’t want to complicate my weekend, so I suggested that we do something simple. Winston, however, was determined, and mentioned that we could also watch a movie. “Netflix and chill” isn’t my speed, but he seemed sincere about wanting to cook, so I agreed. I essentially decided to give the date a shot to see if it could develop into a romance or if it was just a friendship.
Winston asked me about my food and flavour preferences, if I had any allergies and what kind of wine I liked. It was apparent that he put a lot of time and effort into the date. He started to seem more substantial to me as a person.
Winston apologized in advance for the mess at his place. He warned me that he had bought the house not long before and was still getting organized. I assumed he lived a traditional bachelor lifestyle and didn’t think anymore about that comment, but the fact that he owned his own home, in a family-friendly area no less, was impressive. I felt fine as I made my way over. I wasn’t nervous — or dreading it — and I had a nice gift for him for hosting. I was glad I had agreed to another date.
He opened the door almost immediately after I rang the doorbell, which is when I began to feel uncomfortable. Something felt odd. There was no mess to speak of. The house was large and it wasn’t decorated or set up like a single guy’s place. It was formal and almost old-fashioned. He leaned in to kiss me and I felt myself holding back. Still, I shook it off and followed him inside.
Dinner was good. It wasn’t Michelin-star quality, but it was good. I appreciated the effort that he had obviously made. The conversation over dinner was easy. I almost asked about the house and how odd it was to me, but convinced myself I was just being judgmental.
We spent several hours talking and drinking wine. It was comfortable. I was happy to be establishing intimacy with Winston and learning more about him. I was again struck by how formal the house was when I went to the bathroom.
Winston didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who would be interested in floral wallpaper and decorative hand towels.
It wasn’t until I got a look into the bedrooms that I realized what was happening. When it hit me, my stomach turned. Obviously he lied to me about it being his house. It wasn’t. He had me over to his parents’ house, and tried to play it off as though it was his.
I had to leave. I told Winston I had to go, as I had plans early the next day. I thanked him for a lovely dinner and a nice time, and hugged him goodbye. He asked when he could see me again and I told him I’d check my schedule and let him know. I believe this is when he figured out that I had figured himout. I crafted my breakup message to him in my head on the cab ride home.
Winston didn’t ask if I had made it home safely. I guess he couldn’t be bothered to keep up the pretence. Still, I called him a few days later and told him I didn’t think it was going to work out between us. He said something defensive and I pointed out that he had lied to me. He couldn’t deny it. I wished him well, but that was it. I won’t be misled by anyone. Stephanie rates her date (out of10): 4 Want to be a dating diarist? Email datingdiariescontact@gmail.com.