He lied about age and height, then things got worse
Dani is a 26-year-old graduate student and server who lives downtown. She says “I dress for movement, comfort and colour. I’m streamlined. Anything I wear has to be multi-functional.” Dani says she is “kind of a wild child.” She says “I like that my life is my own. I like to take risks, experiment, and throw myself into new situations. I’m definitely an optimistic person. Things tend to work out!” Dani is “intense and focused on my interests” but adds that she likes to “do anything fun,” including drink with her friends, eat tacos, go on “epic bike rides” and take long walks “to talk and see new things.” She has been single for “over two years.”
I was new to the city. I had lived in Toronto as a kid but moved away, and came back for school. I still had good friends in the city but I wanted to meet new people outside of my program, and was after fresh dating and/or friendship material, so I went online.
I can’t remember what inspired me to respond to Beau’s message. I think I felt a familiarity in his phrasing. A couple of messages and days later, I found myself at the restaurant we’d agreed upon, a place I knew, and more in my neighbourhood than his.
Beau had described himself as tall, blond and blue-eyed. This kind of description always intrigues me: I love tall men.
Nope.
Beau was 5’4” at best. He also appeared to be five to 10 years older than he’d said he was.
As always, once I’m in a situation, I kind of just go with it. However, I had built into this date an “out” in the form of a friend who was going to “just happen to stop by.”
As arranged, she got to the restaurant first and would be monitoring my date as it progressed.
Beau and I sat at a table and looked over the menu. For some bizarre reason, I had decided that going grocery shopping before the date was a great idea, and had bags and bags of food with me.
I couldn’t let it go, so finally I asked Beau why he said he was over six feet tall when he wasn’t. He said he didn’t think I’d go out with him if he included his real height.
He wasn’t totally wrong, but I was mad that I wasn’t given the choice to decide.
I had learned by then that he was insecure about his height and unapologetic about lying to me. What else?
As with all dates, I ordered what I wanted to eat. Not the most expensive or the cheapest item, just what I wanted to eat.
I always keep money tucked into my pocket to pay for my part of the bill, but I don’t like going halfsies: if he’s too cheap to pay for my meal on the first date, then we’ll never do anything just for the fun of it later, unless I’m paying.
Beau was eyeballing the menu and making note of my choice, and the price. A bad sign.
“Oh hey!” I heard from behind me.
My friend was there with my “out,” and just in time. I was thinking of how to untangle myself, but couldn’t think of a smooth way to do it, and the food was about to arrive. I gave her our signal that I was fine. She looked at me like “Seriously?” and left.
The bill came. Beau pulled out his phone and divided it into his and mine. Really? If that was his plan, then why comment on what I ordered and how much it cost? Men and money.
He offered me a ride home. Normally I would have said no, but: groceries. I gave him directions but he insisted on taking a different route, and soon we were lost. It got heated! We were arguing on the first date. I was sitting there, clutching my bags full of macaroni and soup. I directed him to an intersection and got out — no way was I going to let him know where I lived!
“So, can I see you again?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said, and gave him a phone number. Not mine, but a number.
Dani gives her date a rating of (out of 10): 1 Want to be a dating diarist? Email datingdiariescontact@gmail.com