Karen and Graham
Karen is a 53-year-old customerservice manager who lives in Ajax. She describes herself as “attractive, outgoing, fun-loving and direct.” Karen plays golf, snowboards, throws dinner parties and plans girls’ weekends with her friends. She has been single for almost 10 years, and says, “You have to date a lot of frogs, I know, but I think the pond is running low!” Karen is looking for a man who is “strong, financially secure, with a good sense of humour and good-looking . . . like me!”
Graham and I met online, like so many of us single folks do these days. I thought he seemed nice. He was also a homeowner who had worked at the same job for many years, and has four grown children. We emailed a few times, met up for a drink and started dating. We even met each other’s friends. He was funny and fun, and we seemed like a good match — at first. Graham came over to my house several times. To make him feel welcomed and at home there, I made a special trip to the LCBO — I don’t drink very much myself — and bought him the particular kind of alcohol he drank. I wanted to have something at home that he would like so he would be comfortable. I also made a few nice dinners and desserts after finding out what he liked to eat. In other words: I made an effort because I liked him. I thought it had paid off, because when he was at my house he was very gracious and made himself very comfortable, lying on the couch watching TV. It was nice.
Soon enough, he invited me to his house for the weekend. I was excited, and Graham seemed excited to have me over. However, when I arrived, he was nowhere to be found. I wan- dered around the property until finally Graham appeared at the door. He asked me why I hadn’t just come on in. What!? I wasn’t ready to get that comfortable.
That’s when I discovered that his home was more like a frat house, or like something out of a Will Ferrell movie. I know men often let things go after a divorce, but this was on another level. The walls were covered with sports paraphernalia; clothes were hanging off every corner; empty beer bottles were everywhere; the couch was covered in dog hair. He asked me what I thought of his place, and instead of responding, I asked for a drink! I prefer fizzy water, which he didn’t have; he offered me tap water or a beer, neither of which I wanted. The evening was not off to a good start.
It got worse. He invited some friends over, without asking me if I’d mind, and they all just sat around drinking and talking about nothing. What they did talk about was trips they had taken, people they knew, the drinking they had done together: nothing that included me or anything that I could jump in on. It might have been more fun if I’d had a drink. I was so angry. After a few hours of this, I asked what we were having for dinner. He offered to order a pizza — which I don’t like. I ended up not having anything at all.
By the time we went to bed, late that night, I was ready to scream. I told him that all I wanted to do was go to sleep. He was a bit put off that we weren’t going to fool around. He thought that he was about to get lucky. Are you kidding me?!
I tossed and turned while listening to him pass gas all night; at one point, he even grunted in his sleep for me to “Get over here.” By seven o’clock in the morning I was awake, dressed and out the door.
Karen rates her date (out of 10): 1 The Dating Diaries are readers’ accounts of their best, worst and weirdest dates as-told-to the Star. Want to be a dating diarist? Email datingdiariescontact@gmail.com