Context: Hello from our great neighbor to the north! I’m in Ottawa, Canada for a business trip this week – and what better way to get to know a new city (and country, for that matter!) than to go on a Tinder date? EXACTLY.
I think I have a problem. Let me explain.
I arrived in Ottawa on Sunday night (to the tiniest airport in the entire world) and I was tired as ballz. PS – are balls tired? Asking for a friend.
You would think, for a very tired girl with a very early wake-up call forthcoming, my priorities upon arriving at my hotel room would be:
1) Sigh heavily, throw arms open, proclaim “home sweet home!”
2) Slip into silky nightclothes and curl up daintily on the bed with the remote and a glass of merlot that I summon from thin air with a snap of my manicured fingers.
3) Savor a late-night ‘Full House’ re-run, giggling girlishly along with the laugh track
4) Slide my satin eye mask down over my eyes and drift off into a deep and peaceful slumber.
NOPE. Here’s how it actually went down.
1) Throw door open with such force that the TV vibrates and threatens to fall off the table.
2) Chuck my suitcase on top of the 2nd bed; begin to rifle through its contents
3) Give up on finding pajamas after 3.5 seconds, decide clothes are stupid, sprawl naked on other bed
4) Tinder up a fuckin STORM til an hour of the night I know I will regret
Hey, I get mine. And, by the next morning, I had dates set up for both Tuesday and Wednesday. VICTORY.
I arranged with Parliament to meet him at this bar called Union 613 on Tuesday at 7:30 PM. Now, I don’t have any international cell service, so this had ‘potential disaster’ and ‘omg if he murders me no one will know’ written all over it. Especially since I made the very intelligent choice of telling him this in advance. YEAH, self-preservation skills, you do your thing.
J: Hey, just so you know I won’t have any cell service once I leave the hotel, but I’m wearing a grey dress!
P: Shit, I think we might be wearing the same thing…
J: Why does this always happen to me?!
P: Haha, thanks for the heads up. I’ll wait outside if I get there early.
Now, I have an absolutely awful sense of direction, so finding a new-to-me restaurant in a foreign country (sans GPS, mind you) was a daunting task. I wrote the directions on the inside of my palm, prayed that palm sweat would not thwart my plans this time, and set off. As I was approaching the restaurant, I saw the guy sitting outside – and immediately turned left and walked down an alley.
Was I really doing this? Was I really meeting a strange man in a foreign country, WHEN I had an expense account and didn’t even NEED my meal covered? What if he didn’t speak English?? Was I crazy?!?!*
*Yes; yes that is exactly what you’re doing; then you will just sit there and flutter your eyes and drink; hundo p.
Brief panic attack having passed, I emerged from my alley and approached Parliament. Who was cute, but like… in that Canadian way where guys don’t work out at all… which isn’t really my type. But hey, my goal was to learn about Ottawa and get some free drinks, not to find a Canadian lover who will engage me in a long-distance relationship that will tear me apart emotionally until I inevitably quit my job and move to Canada for love.
Wait, what? Moving on.
It turns out I had chosen the perfect guy, because this dude was born and raised in Ottawa and was a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge. Our conversation went a little like this:
J: Shower me with facts about the weather!
P: Um, nice in the summer and super cold in the winter. So, what do you like to d-
J: Regale me with tales of the city culture!
P: I mean, it’s cool, not that much different than a mid-size US city. What do you do for wo-
J: Buy me more tequila and TELL ME ABOUT CANADA
I am now offering dating lessons for a small fee.
After two drinks and some cornbread, I decided that I was bored of this conversation. So, I friend-zoned him and started talking about the blog. Luckily, he was very much on board with this, and we spent the next three hours/four tequila beverages discussing the differences between dating in the US and dating in Canada.
P: I think the biggest difference is, we have a lot more casual sex here.
J: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO CHANCE
P: I pretty much never pay for the first date
J: Lol ok bye now
…except, he did pick up the check*, and suggested that we take our drunk asses to yet another bar. I agreed, because alcohol, and we started walking. We ordered beers, which I proceeded to knock over as I stood up from the table to go to the bathroom because I’m the worst. He bought us more. Can I keep him?**
*Here’s the part where I curtsy
**”And, on this episode of Hoarders, we’ll be checking in on J and her strange obsession with keeping men as pets”
After finishing my eighth beverage, I realized it was close to midnight and I needed to get the hell out of dodge. I thanked him for the evening and started to walk down the street, until he yelled after me.
P: You’re walking in entirely the wrong direction.
J: I have the directional sense of a standard windsock.
P: I’ll call us an Uber.
P: Yeah, I assumed I could come home with you. Is that not cool?
J: *thinking about the large pizza I’m going to order when I get home* Nope mom said I can’t have anyone over! Sorry!!
P: Wait, what? Mom?
J: *Hops in nearest taxi* Ta ta!!!
Got free shit, didn’t get killed, learned about Canada, got crunk with a delivery pizza after midnight on a Tuesday. Now, if that’s not a successful night, I don’t know what is.
Also, it’s worth noting that the guy wanted me to title this post “Canada is so lucky to have a guy like Matthew” but I didn’t give him the link so I can call it whatever I want.