He was the total package — until I slept over
Daphne is a 35-year-old physician who lives downtown. She says, “My work makes it hard for me to have an active social life. When it comes to dating, it can be a gamble to decide who is worth spending time with. I have to be selective.” Daphne likes “cooking for friends and doing yoga.” She says, “I’m generally positive, and I’m always looking for the best in people.” Daphne has “set the bar pretty high.” She says “I’d like the next guy to be ‘The One’ for life, someone to grow old with.”
When I first tried online dating a few years ago, I loved it. There’s so much diversity in the online dating pool. When I matched with someone online, I would get excited, but it turned out that so many guys weren’t interested in relationships, lacked etiquette or fell off the face of the Earth after a date or two.
“Ghosting” was new to me. One guy, Cameron, seemed different. By then, most online profiles were repeats of the same guys, or just felt like they were. Sometimes, on dates, men would ask me how it was that I was still single and conclude that I must be picky. I think I can be. Cam was sufficiently older than me, divorced but on good terms with his ex, doing well in life and attractive. He seemed like the whole package. He went out of his way to tell me that he wasn’t just looking to hook up and wanted a real relationship. I was happy to meet someone who knew what he was looking for. I told him I wanted to take things slowly and see where things went. He agreed and took the initiative to plan our first date.
Not just coffee, but an actual plan for dinner and an event. That seemed like a great first step. That first date was amazing. We had a great time and a great conversation, and we shared a nice kiss at the end. I didn’t feel a lot of chemistry, but I knew that I liked him.
The second date was even better than the first. We kissed and kissed and kissed.
The chemistry had definitely increased. I was almost ready to envision something serious happening with him in the future. It was kind of magical.
For our third date, he told me he wanted to cook for me at his place. When I got to his apartment, I was ready for a calm, cosy night in. It was cold out and I was tired from the week. Cameron had great music on and had decorated his place specifically for our dinner. It was clear that he had done a lot of little things to prepare. I was impressed that he was so intent on treating me well, not only that night, but on our previous dates as well. We opened a nice bottle of wine and shared some special apps Cameron had made. The conversa- tion was so smooth, easy and fun. I felt that I could just relax and hang out with him, and felt like our chemistry was growing exponentially with each date. I felt a sense of wanting more. I got the sense that he wanted more from me, too. We talked about life, family and work. I liked it when he told me about the highs and lows of his job. The wine kicked in and I felt kind of dizzy-happy. We kissed and cuddled. He had a gentle but firm touch. I was really turned on by him.
I slept over. It was intense and sexy. The sex was great. It might have been so good because it was unexpected. That night, I learned that I need to give myself and chemistry more time; usually I depend on my gut feeling and decide on the first date if I “have chemistry” with a man or not; and with Cameron, I was wrong.
I felt so good and like the relationship was special, and decided that I was ready to start something with him. It all felt perfect. I guess too perfect. Our next date was scheduled for a few days later. An hour before the date, I got a text from Cameron saying that he couldn’t come. He didn’t say why and didn’t seem to want to. I was so worried and confused but I didn’t want to push him. I never heard from him again. No explanation, not even a courteous fake one, like “It’s not you, it’s me” or something like that.
People seem so disposable in an online-dating world.
Daphne rates her date (out of10): 10 Want to be a dating diarist? Email datingdiariescontact@gmail.com