A few years ago I put myself in a very weird
situation. It all started one night when I was out drinking with the guys and a tall, thin blond man with an English accent approached me. I was
polite with him but not interested because a) I was busy with my friends and b)
tall and skinny and blond is not my type. After I gave him the cold shoulder he
started chatting up one of my guy friends (I didn’t really notice because it
was a standing bar and everyone was milling around) and when last call came and
we headed back to a girlfriend’s place, the blond tagged along. The group
chilled all night and I ended up chatting with him a
bit. At that hour, he seemed cute and interesting, and when he asked my number,
I gave it to him (partly because I was into it, but mostly because at that
stage of my life I was terrible at saying no to any man who asked for it –
thankfully, I’m better about that now). When I had to leave and he made to
leave at the same time, my girlfriend pulled me aside. “Do you like this guy?”
she asked. I told her I didn’t and she rushed me out before the guy could
follow and try and get me back to his place.
He went back to England and we texted back and
forth and Skyped a few times. Neither of us seemed that interested in making
things happen. It’s hard for me to fall in love long-distance – I feel like I
need to see, hear and feel a lot of interest coming from a man before I’m
engaged. But a few months after I had first met him he mentioned he was coming
back to Toronto on business, and he suggested we see each other. It seemed like
a good idea but the timing was bad for me – I was scheduled for three straight
12-hour waitressing shifts (11 AM-11 PM) on the weekend he was coming. I told
him I would try to see him, but deep down I knew I wasn’t going to put in much
effort. Once he got to town he texted me several times. I felt bad and agreed
to meet him after work. I was very tired and felt sticky and yucky from a long
day in the restaurant, but we chatted for an hour or two and then I went home.
The next day he again met me after work. This time we went out drinking until
last call and then I went back to his hotel and talked some more. He was a
complete gentleman – he didn’t even try to kiss me. I crashed on his bed for an
hour and then I went home to clean up and get ready for work. He gave me a
little peck on the cheek and headed back to England.