Rosa is 33, works in marketing, and lives in the St. Lawrence Market area. She likes to travel and read, and has been single on and off for a few years. “I typically go on a date once every week or two,” she says. Rosa is looking for someone like-minded, who has his life together, and knows how to have a good time. She met Charles on Lavalife.
I was impressed by Charles’s use of full sentences and proper grammar. He asked me to coffee after just a few messages back and forth. I normally talk to a guy longer than that online before I meet him in person, but I couldn’t think of a good reason to say no. We met at a Starbucks, because I feel safe there.
It got weird right away. Charles was wearing a Cosby sweater (unironically) and smelled bad. He was also at least 45—the picture he used online must have been about 10 years old. I asked him how old he was, and he said, “You know, late 30s. Forty. Fortysomething.”
I told myself to just drink my tea and get out of there. As soon as we sat down, he began telling me about his time at swingers’ clubs. I think he thought he was flirting with me, or showing me how sophisticated he was. I tried to steer the conversation into other, less creepy waters, but it didn’t work. At one point, he tried to pull my hair back to see my tattoos.
I had no intention of going out with him again, but he made my decision even easier when he asked, “Do you watch porn?” I must have looked at him like he murdered puppies, because he immediately backtracked and said I “must not be the type.” I told him it’s not something I discuss with someone I’ve known for half an hour. I excused myself to go to the washroom, where I gave myself an actual pep talk in the mirror.
I returned and declined Charles’s offer of another drink, then said goodbye. Instead of just letting me leave, he followed me out the door. He attempted a stumbling apology, and I told him I found our conversation overly sexual for a first meeting. He said, “What do you expect? You talk about porn and you have tattoos.” I couldn’t believe it. By then, I was at the intersection and more than ready to part ways, forever. I stuck out my hand for a polite handshake, and thought that would be it. Nope.
He held onto my hand and asked when he could see me again. I said I didn’t think that would be a good idea. When he asked why not, I told him there wasn’t a connection between us. He said, “Who do you connect with then, if not a nice guy like me?” As I tried to come up with some kind of response, he just yelled “Fuck!” and walked away. Later that night, he sent me a text message calling me fat.
Rosa rates her date (out of 10): 1
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