Steph Not Stephanie

The universe has been working hard lately to show me how ultimately fair and good it can be. Upgraded from nosebleeds to floor seats at a Madonna show, awesome work news, winning great tickets to a hockey game, getting carded, and more adventures in Toronto dating. Don’t worry, shit got back to weird after about two weeks of sunshine and unicorns.

I went out with Guy the Monday after Thanksgivingmas (my fam celebrated both since half of my parents are flying south for the winter and I work retail), and we had a pretty good time. Good conversation, booze, and only a few awkward moments (mine, mostly relating to being somewhat PDA averse – just because the bar is full of university students doesn’t mean I’m comfortable acting like them and doing a full-on makeout sesh). He was very forthcoming with his feelings, which is nice, but I am notoriously bad at receiving compliments. ‘Um, thanks,’ is about as good as it gets with me.

We made plans to get together the following weekend to watch one of my favourite horror movies. I was a bit concerned that he was more ‘in’ than I was, but one date is too soon to tell, and it wouldn’t be the first time a French guy was more open with his emotions than ‘Anglo-Saxon’ robot Steph, plus what’s the harm in a second date? I really need to listen to my fucking instincts more often.

The evening was going along just fine, with more compliments and awkward responses, from him and me respectively. Being the super savvy single lady that I am, my cats came up a couple (dozen) times (shut up, Paul). He commented that I’m a cat lady, a fact I do not deny (look at these little furry flops of cute!), and he mentioned his allergy. I said I had read that in his Tinder profile, and that my roommate’s allergic too. Then he got quite upset. Like I was making a man cry on a date AGAIN upset. Apparently women in the past have been ‘selfish’ and chose animals over people, and it made him sad about our future. At this point, I began thinking over my options: Clearly he’s way more invested in this than I am, but also I had shaved my legs and walked down a sketchy alley with a flashlight to get to his place and had already consumed almost a bottle of wine. The simple Netflix and chill evening I envisioned, this was not.

I plodded ahead, although he called me out on being guarded after the big cat convo. I probably was, although I think for different reasons than he suspected. At one point he told me I was overplaying the awkward card. No sir, that’s just my natural state of being.

Awkward or not, things got a little more adult. One of us was very romantic and tuned in on an emotional level, the other was me.

Old uncomfortable Steph, who doesn’t cuddle, who doesn’t endorse sleepovers, who’s not super engaged (especially via text) started to resurface. My post-chill clothes-gathering response to ‘Where are you going?’ was a blunt, ‘To pee and to home.’ I do not miss her, although I could definitely use some of her bitchface techniques every now and then. It was very clear that the slow fade was not an option here, so I did the grown up thing and met him in person told him via text that I just didn’t think we were on the same page. Two dates does not an in-person breakup make.

So kids, what did we learn from this? I would like to say that when you realize the other person is in way more than you are, you pull the cord right then and there. But sometimes you just need a little Netflix and chill in your life, even if there is zero chance of chill the next day.