Tara is a 37-year-old teacher who lives on Queen West. She describes herself as a tall, put-together Leo who tries to make everyone feel special. “The flipside of being this kind of person is that I have a tendency to attract the biggest loser in the room,” she says. She had been single for two years before meeting Bill on Lavalife.
After one or two witty messages between us, I knew Bill had substance, so I suggested we chat on the phone. I asked for his number, and then called him from a blocked number. We had a great conversation, and he seemed to have superior confidence and great wit. He told me he preferred to date tall women, and said that I would feel petite when I was with him.
Overall, I enjoyed our talk, but it definitely had some dark turns—he mocked me for not giving him my number. I was hesitant at first, but eventually I agreed to meet him at a coffee place near my apartment. Bill arrived first, and, when I got there, he stood up to greet me with a handshake and a peck on the cheek. I had to bend down to greet him.
There was a total lack of physical attraction on my part. He was good looking, but had the physique of a 16-year-old. I felt obliged to give the date ample opportunity to grow, but his enormous phone personality did not match up to his stature in person. He was also wearing the same outfit that he wore in his profile picture, and I realized that he thought it was his “sexiest first-impression” look.
Bill bought me a coffee, and we sat talking for a while. He was funny, and made me laugh. Any woman can be seduced with laughter, I find. The problem was that he dropped f-bombs every few sentences. I found that what I had interpreted as confidence was arrogance: He had an alpha-male complex that I found abrasive.
Bill was staring into my eyes, and lingering far too long on my mouth, like he was imagining what it would be like to kiss me. He then said, “I like the size of your mouth,” and, a moment later, told me that he was in the early stages of an erection. I considered getting up and leaving, but didn’t.
We walked from the café to a bakery, where Bill bought a cupcake for us to share. As we were eating it and walking down the street, a bird whooshed past my hair, and I screamed. A minute later, after we’d found a bench to sit on, I noticed that there was a white glob on the fly of Bill’s pants. It looked like it was dripping. Bird shit! Bill caught my gaze, cocked his eyebrow, and said, “You barely know me.” I told him to look down. He started jumping from one foot to another in complete disgust, begging me for a Kleenex, my sleeve, anything to wipe it off. After he had used the cupcake napkin to wipe off the shit, he said, “You know that little erection I had? Well, it’s gone now.”
I faked a sincere goodbye and gave him my number at the end of the date, as I’d told him I would. I have a hard time letting men down in person; it’s much kinder over the phone.
Tara rates her date (out of 10): 4
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