Steph Not Stephanie

Toronto has a reputation as being a difficult city to meet people. Online dating has been a clusterfuck uninspiring as of late, but luckily a couple of weird interesting different events have fallen into my lap.

Last night two friends, whom we’ll call Goldilocks and Cinderella because this is my blog and I do what I want, went with me to Date Night at Mirvish’s Once. Apparently 5,000 other Torontonians wanted to go to a free show are optimistic about finding love over theatre, but they narrowed it down to a lucky 1,200. Based solely on age, sexual orientation, age preference, and favourite musical, we were partnered with our potential paramours — whose names we only found out when we picked up our tickets. That’s when the fun started.

Cinderella got her ticket first and learned she was matched with Michelle. Fun fact: Cinderella is more interested in a prince than a princess. After laughing our asses off at her luck, we flagged down an usher. Jeff joined us in laughing at her (every time he walked by us in line), but he did get it sorted out. While she waited for her second date of the evening, I got my ticket: Orchestra O 22. Date’s name: AVeryRareNameofaDudeStephDated.

It’s a good thing we got free drinks at this shindig, because I was in immediate need of as much wine as I could possibly throw back in the 10 minutes before the curtain went up. I sent a picture of the ticket with the word PANIC to a couple of level-headed friends, who managed to talk me off the ledge with mantras like, ‘There are other RareNamedDudes. There are other RareNamedDudes.’

As this was going down, Cinderella joined us with her new date. He was cute, nice, seemed normal, and social with our group. We said goodbye to two lovely ladies we met in line (including an 18-year-old who came by herself — heck yes, girl!), and found our seats. Goldie sat down right in front of me, and her date presented her with a rose. My prayer (which had changed from ‘Please be cute/nice/normal,’ to ‘Please don’t be my ex.’) was answered, although in hindsight I maybe should’ve just added that to the original.

I sat down to a palpable awkwardness. I could see Goldie and her (cute/nice/normal) date talking, the couple to my right seemed to be having a normal conversation, and it was clear that my night would not be running so smoothly. Me: So, you like Rent (the musical I/we chose)? Him: Oh, I’ve never seen it. But I like funny musicals.

In case you haven’t seen Rent, let me say it is not funny. He might’ve had a better time had he chosen Book of Mormon. I might’ve too. I continued on in attempts to make conversation. We had this thrilling exchange: Me: Do you live downtown? Him: No. Me, after a long pause: Okay, where do you live? Him: In Barrie. I wanted property so I bought an acre. Me: Oh, what do you do with it? Him: Mow it (stone face, without an ounce of humour). Thankfully, the show started.

The first half was fantastic, or at least I thought so. He didn’t laugh once, and as far as I could tell he didn’t even crack a smile. I looked over to check occasionally, as well as to try to sneak a peek at his rustly snack. The premise was to get to know each other during an extended intermission, but as soon as the lights came on, he ran out like he was on fire. I looked at Goldie and her date and said I thought I had just been ditched. The three of us enjoyed drinks and chatted up a lovely older couple at the bar (who seemed to be hitting it off!), and eventually Cinderella found us. Turns out her replacement was no more interested in women than she was. The poor girl was two for two, and within hours. Goldie’s gentleman escorted me back to my seat while she went out for a smoke. I assumed I’d be sitting by myself, but my ‘date’ returned just in the nick of time. He didn’t say a word the entire time, and Goldie and her date kept turning around and giggling over the fact that he did not crack a smile the entire time.

There was an after party with the cast, and someone from Mirvish singled out Goldie, her Bachelor, and their rose for an interview. Cinderella decided to call it a night lest she turn into a pumpkin, and Goldie shared my good luck with the interviewer. Not only did I discuss my ditching on camera, I also got an extra pity drink ticket in the hopes that I would find someone to share it with. I asked my boyfriend Netflix, but he was so kind he insisted I drink both. He really gets me. Our merry little trio stuck around and chatted with some of our fellow daters. It didn’t seem like there were too many love matches, but Goldie did tell everyone she encountered about this blog (thanks girl!).  It was a very cute idea, and a lot of fun, but next time I hope they choose Evil Dead The Musical. What can I say, I’m a girl who likes a bit of gore on a blind date. Don’t judge, Netflix understands me.