Patricia is 26, works in publishing, and lives in Parkdale. She says her friends would describe her as “determined and optimistic, but overly sensitive, which is sometimes a problem.” Patricia likes cooking, going to shows and bars, and finding new craft brews. She met Malcolm on OkCupid.
My dating life used to be brutal. I’d had a few short relationships, and one that lasted a year, but none were substantial. I figured that I was the kind of person who would always be single.
I signed up for OkCupid when I was unemployed. I was looking to distract myself from the tedium of finding a job. Right after I signed up, I was offered the position of my dreams—it was in my field and at a company I’d always admired. I messaged Malcolm on a whim a few days later; I was feeling really good about myself. Nothing about his profile stood out, and the pictures were odd, but his username was taken from a song by a band I love. I was surprised when he asked me out, but I figured, why not?
The day of our date, it was disgustingly grey and cold and rainy. I decided that it would be rude to cancel on such short notice and went, against my gut. But as soon as Malcolm found me at the bar, I was glad I had elected to go.
He told me that I was his first internet date. He’d signed up for OkCupid when he was drunk, which might’ve explained his choice in photos. His honesty was a huge turn-on, as was the fact that he looked way better than his pictures.
After about five minutes of talking, I got that “yes” feeling. It had been a while since I’d felt it. We started telling stories, and we found out that we knew a lot of the same people. We’d even been to some of the same shows and parties—we’d just never met. Malcolm actually knew my brother, but only by name. The strangest thing, though, was that we talked the exact same way: our speech patterns, slang, even the way we told stories about our families and friends were the same. We had a freakishly powerful connection.
Eventually, Malcolm suggested that we leave; we were both getting sloppy. I invited him to my house to have another drink in the backyard. We talked for hours, drank beers, thumb-wrestled, and made out while sitting across from each other in damp patio chairs, holding hands across the table. When he left, he told me he’d text me the next day. Our second date was two days later. Now we live together, and I’m absurdly in love.
Want to be a dating diarist? Email firstname.lastname@example.org.