Chapter 3 : The Perfect Girl with the One Major Turn-Off
Waiting at the entrance of Mont-Royal metro station, standing by the wall next to the constantly-opening door because my dying phone is charging in the most inconveniently placed outlet, I feel stupid. I feel stupid because I didn’t charge my phone before I left my house. I feel stupid because I choose to dress cute instead of warm and now I’m freezing my ass off in this badly non-heated metro station. I feel stupid because I scheduled a date with a girl on the coldest night of October. I don’t even know what I expect out of this date. I met this girl on this dating app (not Tinder, I’m done with that one!) meant for girls to meet other girls and asked her out almost right away. We exchanged texts for maybe 2 days and now we are going out. I guess it might be better this way, we get to get to know each other in person, and not on a screen. But at the same time, I don’t know if I’m into this girl. I mean she’s cute, but I know nothing about her. Her name is Jenna and she’s 22 years old, that’s about all I know. I guess we’ll see what happens tonight.
As I’m about to unplug my phone and run to the nearest fast-food restaurant to warm up, Jenna texts me: she’s at the metro station.
“Look for a blond girl” is what she said. It’ funny because I always use to say blonde girls were not my type, but I guess after being played and getting your heart broken by too many brunettes, you start going out with blonde girls too! Maybe blonde girls are nicer, maybe this one is THE ONE. I don’t know. We’ll see.
Outside, where it’s even colder than in the metro station (if that’s even possible), my eyes automatically start searching for a blonde girl. Right away I spot 3, but none of them are my date.
-Hi! Someone says behind me, and I turn around so fast I might have snapped something in my neck.
-Hi! I say in return, looking at the person standing in front of me.
One of my biggest fear when it comes to online dating is to meet up with someone I’ve meet on Internet and them looking nothing like their pictures. I feel like that would be the pinnacle of awkwardness. But thankfully Jenna looks like her pictures. Actually, she’s even more beautiful in person. With big green eyes and long shiny hair that falls on her shoulder like a cascade of honey, she makes my heart leap in my chest. We stand there for a split second, looking at each other, unsure of what to do next. Should we hug, should we give each other a kiss on each cheek like Quebecers do, or should we just start walking toward the bar I picked? We both just decide to start walking. Right away I feel at ease with this girl. She is a very chill person, I can see right away that she’s the kind of person who doesn’t get bothered by much. Even just in the way she walks, it’s like she’s walking purposefully toward nothing in particular and she doesn’t really care about the destination. On the way to the bar, she tells me about the trips she took in South America, I tell her about the times I went to London and Morocco.
Le Darling is almost full when we get there, but after waiting for a short half-hour, we finally get to sit at a tiny table squished between two other couples. In other circumstances, the combination of the noise and the proximity with the other tables would have made me very irritated, but I don’t mind tonight. This girl just as something about her that makes me feel comfortable and relaxed.
-So what do you do? She asks.
-I’m an Education student at McGill.
-Education! That’s fun? Do you like it?
-I do, I answer. It’s very interesting and it’s a lot of fun.
-So you want to be a teacher, Elementary School or High School?
-My program is called TESL, which means Teaching English as a Second Language, so I can teach both Elementary School and High School, but I think I prefer Elementary School so far.
Our drinks arrive and I take this opportunity to switch the conversation around and ask her questions.
-Tell me about you, what do you do?
-I’m a nurse, she answers. I work with patients who have Alzheimer.
-Ouf, that can’t be easy.
We start talking about her work for a while, then about our families. Obviously, we end up talking about our coming out.
-My mom found out on Facebook, I tell her, laughing.
-My mom found out when she saw me kissing a girl, she says, also laughing.
At some point in the evening, her hand reached for mine and we’re holding hands on the table. It doesn’t last long because we get the bill and we leave the bar, but the second we are outside I reach for her hand. We decide to walk for a little while instead of going back to the metro. We walk down St-Laurent boulevard all the way to St-Catherine street. She told me earlier that she has ADHD and I think it’s so cute when she’s talking and suddenly she stops mid-sentence because something caught her attention, then turns back to me and asks: “what was I saying?”
The night is cold and the wind is strong, so we have to walk fast to stay warm. We reach the gay village and walk under all the strings of colorful plastic balls. The wind keeps making the decorations dance, and it makes a soft noise. We see couples walking together, holding hands like we are doing. Others are kissing in the middle of the street.
I love being in the gay village because no one looks at me weird when I hold another girl’s hand. I’m sad to say in the rest of the city, I still get dirty looks when people see me showing PDA to another girl.
We finally reach metro Papineau and we are both freezing. We run into the metro station and, lucky for us, we are going in the same direction. We sit together in the metro, our hands fused together. I’m thinking about kissing her when she pulls something out of her pocket, and my heart sinks. She’s holding a pack of cigarettes in the hands.
-Can’t wait to get out of the metro to have a smoke, she says.
I let go of her hand.
-This is my stop, I say while standing up. I’ll call you.
She looks surprised that I’m leaving so fast, but smiles.
-Ok, she says, bye. I had fun!
I walk out of the train and turn around just in time to see her wave goodbye as the metro leaves. I stay put on the platform while all the others who got off the train at the same time as me walk toward the exit. I wait for the next metro, because this wasn’t really my stop. A while back, when I started dating, I made a promise to myself that I would never date someone who smokes. She was a great girl, but that’s something I just can’t deal with. Smoking is my biggest turn-off. I guess I’m not going to call her back.
True story or fiction?
Leave your answer in the comment section! ;)
Images obtained from:
https://mijosamwordpresscom.files.wordpress.com/2017/02/6989446355_a085fba38f_k-1.jpg
https://image.afcdn.com/story/20140304/couple-holding-hands-189304_w600h600.jpg
http://boulevardsaintlaurent.com/custom-content/uploads/2017/03/Darling-Cover1.jpg
http://www.gayvoyageur.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/reservation-appartement-village-gai.jpg