Dating · Friends · Guest Post

It’s all Greek to me

Oh, hey there! Nice of you to stop by. I have a treat for you … another guest post! This one comes courtesy of a lovely gent we’ll call Ernie (whom I hope won’t be a stranger ’round these here parts). Often when friends mention they had a bad date, my immediate response is to charm a blog out of them. Ernie shared his own Toronto dating story with me and I couldn’t wait to pass it along to you. I’ll let him take over from here.

 

I’m a man. I’m in my mid-thirties, and I date other men. This has led to some strange stories over the years, but I think the one I can share from last night will definitely be the most unusual. I only became single a couple of years ago (for the first time since online dating happened). I’ve always been in long term relationships, and I equate that with not knowing how to handle myself in these situations. Let’s call this one J…

J and I had been chatting online a little bit over the past week. We met through one of those fantastic proximity-based dating apps that all smartphones seem to come with these days. During the course of our discussion, it became clear that we knew some of the same people. J’s photo was kind of blurry, but I had an advantage — I could ask a real live person I trust to share their thoughts on him with me. Apparently, J was really sweet, and totally the type of guy I’d go for… During more discussion with J, I learnt that he worked nights as a dispatch operator. You know, answering calls, and sending people out on those calls. It was kind of vague, but I chalked it up to being embarrassed that he worked for 911 or as an operator for the local taxi service.

I agreed to meet up near all the Greek restaurants in Toronto, as J knew a place that was fantastic. I was early, and discovered that the place he chose was packed, so I messaged him to let him know that perhaps we should think about another place. When he showed up, I was a little surprised. I’m tall; J is not … He’d also just shaved his head, and it looked like he had also brush-cut his eyebrows. Both are details that were clearly not the case in his photos. And he was carrying a jug he’d just bought at Kitchen Stuff Plus.

Now I need to put in a disclaimer here; I’d never been in a Friendly Greek before, and the place I would normally choose has apparently shut down. J said that it was really good, so we went. It was evident the second we walked in that this was the Swiss Chalet of Greek food. The place barely looked like a cafeteria, and the waiters were in dress shirts and ties. Both of them…

As I looked down at my wilted plate of barely-Greek salad, a very long evening began. I moved my fork about on my very brown speckled plate, and settled in. You see, it turns out that J is in fact a dispatch operator. For the Coroner… That’s right, he’s who you call when you need a body transported from the place of death to the place of afterlife…

It turns out that sometimes, bodies don’t just go from point A to B. Sometimes, they hang out with J in the office cooler for a while. Suddenly it dawned on me: I’m out with someone really unstable. J thought that cleaning up the cooler was funny. Clearly, he was stoned…

As the evening progressed, I became weary. I heard about how bodies smell, and the one that was just too much. Apparently human flesh and old asparagus have a lot in common. J told me that I was much cuter in person. “Thanks…” was all I could muster. If you’ve ever seen Divine out of drag, you can probably figure out why.

But the evening wasn’t a total disappointment after all. As I politely walked J to the subway, the so-very-Canadian thing to do came out of my mouth. “Should we keep in touch?” J, in his sarcastic wisdom said, “No!” and let out a cackle. I simply replied “Okay…” and began the long walk home…

 

For the record, during my own brief stint in a funeral home, I tried to keep the creepiness to a minimum on dates. Just because bodies don’t bother me doesn’t mean I’m unaware that not everyone is as chill about it (pun intended). I also avoid comparing the smell of bodies to anything edible, but that’s just good manners.

 

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