Naomi is a 32-year-old from Leslieville who works in publishing. She likes to post on Pinterest, eat out, and go to concerts. “I’m chill, strong, and happiest when I’m alone,” she says. “I was out of the country teaching ESL and did some internet dating there, and then back in Toronto, but it didn’t work.” Naomi has been single for “a while” after breaking off an engagement.
I’ll only date a guy if I’d like him to be my partner. I trust I’ll know that immediately, often in less than five minutes. Basically, if he smells good, is hot, dresses well, is educated, actually enjoys his chosen profession, doesn’t make annoying sounds while he’s eating, and doesn’t swear or spell “Halloween” with that pretentious apostrophe, we’re going to the next level.
I wasn’t exactly looking for a man when I met Paul. I left work early and, as some kind of karmic punishment, my wait for the streetcar took forever. I saw a cute guy walking across the street, and hoped he’d be getting on my streetcar, too, when it finally showed up. He did, and sat in front of me. A minute later, the streetcar driver said, “Get to know the person beside you. This streetcar is going to be crowded.” Paul turned around and introduced himself, and we started talking. I liked that he seized the opportunity to meet me. He had a nice smile and a general vitality that made me feel confident we’d make cute, healthy kids. He also had an exotic accent.
We talked the whole way, and when the streetcar pulled into Bathurst station, Paul smiled and said, “You don’t want to go home, do you?” I admitted that I didn’t, and he asked me if I’d eaten dinner yet and suggested a place nearby. He had a friend with a sports bar that would take care of us, he said. He was really confident and sure of himself.
By the time we arrived at the restaurant, we had fully hit it off—not surprising, since our conversation on the streetcar was so easy. We had dinner and drinks at his friend’s restaurant, and in no time I was one of the boys, kicking ass at trivia. We went somewhere else for dessert, and then another place after that for more drinks. He pulled out my chair like a gent and paid for everything, but I got less excited after a while because I didn’t like how he threw money around. He was showing off, acting like he was introducing me to a life that I was not accustomed to, or something like that.
We ended up making out in a parkette, and I missed the last subway. He was very nice about it, and took me all the way home in a cab to make sure I got home safe, but when I thanked him, he smirked and said, “I can’t do this every night.” I said I didn’t expect that, and he replied, “Just don’t get used to it! I’m not going to pay for everything every time!” and wagged his finger in my face. That made me feel pathetic and low-rent. I said thank you again and got out of the cab. I should have told him that patronizing me had eclipsed everything he had going for him, but didn’t bother.
Naomi rates her date (out of 10): 6
Want to be a dating diarist? Email firstname.lastname@example.org.