Lana and Yves
Lana is a 28-year-old single woman who works in a call centre and lives downtown. She says, “I enjoy keeping abreast of current social and political events; travelling and planning upcoming vacations; listening to jazz and hip-hop; and reading.” She is “witty, impulsive, hardworking and humble.”
Lana describes her look as “very business casual. I like to be classy but relaxed at the same time.” She is “pretty judgmental” and says, “I like to think about things from multiple perspectives to understand why things are the way they are.” She adds, “I’m not too nervous around a group of new people, but when it comes to guys who I’m actually attracted to, it’s a little bit of a challenge.”
My dating life has been full of onedate duds.
I’ll admit, I fall for smooth-talkers, but nothing sobers my rationale once a guy shows how immature and indecisive he is.
Worst of all, I’ve gone out with too many who expect something for doing nothing at all.
I don’t ask for much, but finding someone who’s considerate, romantic, ambitious and has a good sense of humour is like finding a unicorn.
And asking to go somewhere a cut above another coffee shop seems to be the equivalent to asking for a guy’s hand in marriage nowadays.
Hey, I may be thirsty, but I’m not parched.
I was taking one of the last subway trains for the night and, while a group of rambunctious passengers were wandering through the subway car, my eyes met Yves’s and we shared a look of disappointment.
I smiled at him. He was super-cute. We made small talk and flirted some and eventually I gestured for him to come sit closer to me. I’m not the type to give out my number to guys I barely know, but he was cute and very polite and, by the time we parted ways, we had exchanged information.
Yves and I spoke over the phone a few times and I quickly learned that he wasn’t much of a talker. Maybe it was nerves; maybe he just wasn’t the phone type.
But, again, with looks like his, I didn’t care.
He wasn’t shy about wanting to take me out, so when he asked, we made plans for that following weekend.
I’ve done the classic dinner-and-a- movie thing way too much to enjoy it anymore. I wanted to mix things up a little bit, so I suggested that we go to Second City. Yves had never been there before.
Seats at Second City were on a firstcome-first-served basis, so we decided to arrive early.
We were supposed to meet at 6 p.m., but Yves didn’t show up for another hour. I was livid when he finally arrived. His weak apology didn’t win me over, either, but, for some reason, I held some hope that the tide would turn.
On our way to the comedy club, I stopped to grab a coffee and Yves chose to wait outside. When I returned, he was nowhere to be found. Immediately, I began to contemplate whether today’s dating decorum had deteriorated so much that men felt emboldened enough to ditch a woman before the night had begun.
I was relieved when the answer to that question reappeared around the corner a moment later. Apparently, Yves had gone to use the washroom. OK, wait, what? I looked at the coffee shop, then looked back at him and realized that he hadn’t come from the washroom inside. At 30, did he really just go take a leak around the corner? I was disgusted. What stray dog was I on a date with?
I was terminally turned off by his behaviour before we even stepped in the door of the club. Of course, he didn’t offer to buy me a drink.
I enjoyed the performance, but couldn’t wait to go home and that’s exactly what I did afterwards. Guess what? He didn’t stop me. I was disappointed, but not surprised.
I’ve been on a few bad dates in my lifetime, but I have never experienced this level of humiliation and disrespect before. I gave Yves a piece of my mind when he had the nerve to call me again.
Lana 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.