Steph Not Stephanie

It has been far too long since I posted. I was struggling with motivation and a case of the SADs in this godforsaken endless winter, but I’ve emerged like a spring flower (or some poetic shit like that).

I know when I start a story with, ‘I had a date last night…’ people have come to expect some sort of ridiculousness, but I’m going to change it up and spin you a good date yarn (miracles do happen, amirite?).

I have a love/hate relationship with online dating. Strike that. I think I have Stockholm syndrome when it comes to online dating. Clearly it hasn’t treated me well, but I feel like I can’t leave (or every time I do, I keep going back). Part of it is fear that I will never meet someone and die alone and Josephine will eat my face off because no one will be around to feed her, and part of it is how the hell do you meet new people when you aren’t in school and you work from home and talk to your cat all day?

Needless to say, I reactivated my profile for the umpteenth time, and ended up grabbing drinks in Kensington with a new person last night. I don’t know the bar scene in Kensington very well, or anywhere outside the Village for that matter (drag queens, the ability to wear all the sparkles I want, and stumbling across the street into bed always win out in my books). Luckily he tends bar at some achingly cool place in King West (I assume, because isn’t everything over there achingly cool?) and suggested a couple of awesome spots. Since it’s above zero now, patios are a thing again; one even had a campfire (necessary, because we’re all crazy and it is still cold as fuck at night).

I’ll spare you the details, but a lovely time was had, and he walked me home. What made this date truly noteworthy was not even one minute after I had turned my light on, he called to say he forgot to kiss me good night and he was still standing on my porch. Touché bro, very well done.

I share this with you not because I think this is my next great romance or any such crappy sappy, but because for every five weird douchebags I run into online, there might just be a nice guy kicking around. Don’t worry though, I’m sure I’ll still have plenty more of the other kind of stories.