Love means never having to say you’re sorry; a bad date means never having an inclination to call, ever again.

In the “spirit” of this “holiday”, allow me to tell you about the worst date I’ve ever had. That is, if you can call it a date; perhaps what it really was, was a former fling having an anneurism and inviting you out for some unknown reason and then finding several passive-aggressive ways to say “I’m not interested”. Passive-aggressive yes, subtle, no. Non-sensical though… very.

It all began back in September of… Gosh. Two years ago. Wow.

I met a boy. He was nice, and very tall and attractive, and worked for a computer game software company that the love of my life (who spurned me and stomped on my heart and then proceeded to rip out of my chest and rip it into bloody pulpy pieces with his bare hands) couldn’t get a job at, because he lacks the talent and ambition to do so… but I digress. Anyway, we went out for coffee on some idle late-September (or maybe early October?) evening and over quiet lattes and discussions about compatible music tastes, the ownership of cats, and formerly-committed debauchery at Remedy Cafe, we had a mutual like for each other, and decided to go out again.

On date number 2, I was a bit more nervous and there seemed to be more at stake; soooo I introduced alcohol into the picture and with me, that means deviant poorly-thought out decision making time. Sure enough, I woke up the next morning with a boy in my bedroom (who I, regrettably actually, told to put his shoes in my bedroom instead of by the door so my sister/roommate wouldn’t see or know that I had a sleepover guest. Alright, that was bad. But honestly, it was just awkward…). Anyway, he texted me later that day saying, “I had so much fun last night! Enjoy the rest of your weekend! Blah blah blah I like you, blah blah blah.” Logically, one would think, “great!” And then I never heard from him again really, for a couple of months.

One day in mid-December, I was at the grocery store and I got a text – from my compatible, likable short-term date boy! And he asked me to go to a movie. Well… nothing says ‘date’ like a movie on a cold December evening. I could lie and say I didn’t care that much, and wasn’t excited for this date. But I won’t. I beamed. Give me an inch, I swear to God…

So the day of said-date came along… and it was -45 with wind chill. It was a day in Edmonton that will live in infamy, as we all heard on the local news that on that day, we were the second-coldest place on Earth, second only to Siberia. The boy didn’t drive (he actually didn’t have his license and like me, frequented public transit) and about 2 hours before we were supposed to meet, he text messaged me with, “it’s really cold out so I’ll just meet you downtown”. Really? Really. No… really. You’re going to MEET your DATE… downtown!? On the coldest night in the history of mankind!? And make her go downtown in the dark at 9pm on a Saturday night – alone. Really.

At this point, I should have just called the whole thing off (If that statement was a tweet, it would have an accompanying hash tag, #bigliferegret). I didn’t though; I got dressed nicely, put on my warmest sweater, scarf and mittens and boots, and braved my way, on the subway, downtown to meet my “date”. When we got there, he didn’t pay, didn’t ask if I wanted any snacks, didn’t really acknowledge me at all with anything aside from a “hey, it’s cold out, heh?” and then we went into the theatre…

Before the start of the movie, he talked at LENGTH – GREAT LENGTH – about his cats and all the hilarious, epic, magnificent, adorable, funny things they do and did – in gut-wrenchingly eerie and verging-on-obsessive detail. I nodded in bored agreement, trying desperately to change the subject. Then he proceeded to tell me this was his only night off for weeks and a lot of people had asked him if he wanted to hang out, but he told them he “already had plans”. Well, thanks for telling me just how much this “date” meant to you… I feel inclined now to do my best to make the whole thing worthwhile.

Then the movie started. We saw Invictus. DAMN, that’s a good movie. And Matt Damon, as per usual was stunning on-screen… and his acting skills were put to good use as well. Yeah, I love Matt Damon. Shamelessly.

After the movie however (which PS, was touchless and chemistryless on our part from credits-credits), we left the theatre and my ‘date’ said, “Matt Damon sucked in that movie and his accent was horrible.” Nobody. Insults. Matt. Damon. In. Front. Of. Me. Nobody. So, I kinda did a vague haughty “I liked it”. And then we went outside (and I was amazed my face didn’t just shatter and fall off instantly; it was THAT cold).

As an aside, my ‘date’ lives on the same side of the river as I do, and on the same bus route. So instead of waiting with me for the bus, he said to me once we were outside in the land of Cold Hell Death on Earth, “well… I’m gonna catch a bus by the library. Sooo… have a good night.” And left me waiting, in the dark, in the cold, for a bus, by myself. And at at that moment, I was humiliated, dejected, angry and decided to never ever contact him again (and I didn’t — except this one drunk time before New Years when I wanted to ask him if he knew what Toxic Shock Syndrome was, as my girlfriends and I were surveying all of the males we knew on the topic).

He even dared to text me this while I was making my way home, by myself on the bus: “Sorry I didn’t wait with you. I was really cold.” Yup. Well I wasn’t cold at all. In fact, I was enjoying the balmy weather so it was totally fine for me to wait. If he was cold, he should have worn a better jacket – but I totally understood that he didn’t wait with me…… asshole.

Sometimes you have evenings that are bad for no apparent reason; there’s nothing that SHOULD theoretically go wrong and if anything, disasters like Edmonton’s evil bout of cold should bring two people closer together and want to engage in close-knit warming activities. And yet, despite all of that, there comes a night like this, that makes no sense at all and makes you feel like nobody and nothing, an undateable entity and a sucker, and an embarrassed single loser who allowed herself to be taken for a ride. And yet… if you just want to take someone for a ride, why bother asking them to a movie in the fucking first place? I’d never be so hard-up for company that I’d contact a former one-night stand to go see a movie with me; I’d rather go by myself.

Those last five words sum up my feelings about men in general.

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