pandemic dating Archives - That Girl Cartier

Dating Diaries: You Need to Learn How to Flirt Again

You need to learn how to flirt again. I need to learn how to flirt again. We all need to learn how to flirt again.

Last night I ended up on an accidental double date. My newlywed friends had just moved to my neighbourhood, and due to the pandemic we got to celebrate neither their wedding nor their housewarming together. We were having some impromptu cocktails and a catch-up when a friend of theirs arrived. We are all double-vaxxed and the idea of meeting a meeting human is truly invigorating, to me, so when he started making various references to a particular woman in his life I found it disarming. Cool – he’s off the market and this is not at all a set-up. We’re golden. Let’s eat some pizza and get a little toasted. We’re all friends here. We’re comfortable. This is great.

It wasn’t until a couple of hours into the soirée that it unraveled that the woman he kept mentioning had made a very recent departure. He had broken up with said partner of a few years just a couple of days prior. As the drinks wore on, he started to put the vibe out there by caressing my shoulder and back. I hope the word “caress” makes you feel questionably repulsed, because that’s where I was – sitting in a small space with some friends and a super weird vibe. Sure – I’ve been on some pandemic dates, and our small group was all double-vaxxed, but I didn’t know him from Adam and he was tending to some really fresh wounds.

We left the condo and decided to try our luck at a bar, knowing full well with no reservation at almost midnight it was a bit of a pipe dream. Almost immediately, newly-single Sal started pulling me back so we *could talk*. He accused me of disliking him in the most bizarre way: “I think you’re a good looking girl – you’re beautiful, you’re fun, but we need to bury the hatchet.”

What hatchet?

This continued an excessive amount throughout the course of the evening. “Let me buy you a shot and let’s bury the hatchet.” “I’m going to buy us a drink and we’ll bury the hatchet.” “I like you a lot, but let’s bury the hatchet.”

What. Hatchet?!

In earnest, I had no idea if he was flirting with me or if I even wanted to engage in flirting with newly-single Sal. The compliments followed by “BUT” made it seem like they were completely negated by the rest of his sentence. Which was fine, but what was this dude’s point? I kept reassuring him that there was no hatchet, no animosity, no bad blood, but buddy just was not getting it. With every pull of my arm to isolate me from our friends, I was growing aggravated.

To my own dismay, I often play the role of “Good Luck Chuck”. Right now, I’m actually really satisfied only having to parent plants. If someone comes along and is incredibly special and those sparks hit, then absolutely I would love to be in a relationship. I don’t, however, feel as though it’s my responsibility to tend to a random dude’s broken heart on Dundas West on a Saturday night.

Ultimately, because I wasn’t engaging in the kind of behaviour for which he was hoping, he walked away to socialize with another group of young women. Awesome. I had heard about enough about this damned hatchet and wanted to enjoy one of the first nights of liberty as we enter a post-~~apocalyptic~~ pandemic world without this man’s stressful energy.

He eventually came back as we were served our Gigglewater fries (iykyk) and he told me that I should leave. I’m the one that should leave because he wasn’t getting the kind of reaction to his advances he thought he deserved and the attention he craved. The three of us just stood there less in awe than in blank, exasperated silence. It was late. We were tired. We’re too old to be having a rager of a night, which quite frankly would have been impossible because I have an injury and it’s still Footloose in Uncle Dougie’s Ontario. Dancing is, indeed, still a crime. I don’t know what happened to Sal that night, but our carriage turned into a pumpkin and into an Uber. Our night was done and dusted.

I need to re-learn how to flirt. We all need to relearn how to flirt. But, if you give it a couple of shots and he/she/they aren’t interested, we all need to relearn how to be respectful and give it a rest.

Dating Diaries – Vaccine Badges: Public Safety or Publicity Stunt?

Stay Home + Stay Safe = Stay Single

While the pandemic has put most things on pause, it has also brought to light various ethical dilemmas. Uncle Dougie has kept us cooped up, sad, and single for more than 360 days as of today in various twists on “stay at home order”.

According to Dan Kelly, president of the Canadian Federation of Independent Businesses, “In terms of simple business closures, Toronto has probably had the longest lockdown in North America, and possibly the world.” Looking around at the rest of the world, I question the necessity of these extreme measures. I have tried to be the dutiful, respectful, tax-paying citizen doing my part of the cause for the most part, but has it really done us any good?

The Pandemic Has Changed the Apps

There seems to be a bit of a subculture which has made niches of the main 3 apps people use in Toronto. Tinder was for casual hookups, bumble was for beta boys who need the woman to take the lead, and hinge tended to be for those invested in getting finding a relationship. I feel like the pandemic has thrown a lot of this out the window. Surprisingly, most of my friends who have gotten into serious monogamous relationships during the pandemic have met through Tinder.

Vaccine Badges

I was asked yesterday how I felt about “vaccine badges”. They haven’t made their way to the apps yet in Canada, but either way – I am rapidly losing interest in swiping left and right and then never talking. A badge isn’t going to change that. When it comes to the vaccine, I have developed a couple of notions for those who declare their vaccine status in their bios. Let’s start with vaxxed and anti-vax.

The Anti-vaxxers Aren’t Always Anti-Maskers

If he’s hesitant about the vaccine (or against it altogether), but has taken a dip in the pool at Cabana, I think it’s clear that we have fundamental differences in belief systems and values. By that same token, if he thinks he’s important enough for Bill Gates to have installed a microchip in his arm, he’s probably a little too self-involved for me. I think it’s pretty clear that anti-maskers effect others, while anti-vaxxers risk their own health. If you want to dick around with long-term, mystery side effects, that’s on you, bb.

Personally, I think it’s wise to get the vaccine to keep yourself out of the hospital and to leave resources for those who actually need them. My ideal partner understands/ respects the mRNA research which has been ongoing since the 1960’s. He doesn’t have a PhD from WebMD and he doesn’t believe everything his crazy Uncle George posts on Facebook. My ideal partner would have gotten the vaccine not JUST because it would keep him safe from COVID-19, but because getting the jab is a direct contribution to the return of normal, pre-pandemic life.

You would think that based on the aforementioned, I’d be hugely in favour of a vaccine badge. In reality, the badge itself doesn’t really make a difference for me. At this stage, I’m not sure how vaccine badges would be verifiable. This, to me, is just another opportunity for people to lie on their online resume – er, bio. If you’re really interested and it’s really a priority for you, ask the question. Have a conversation with the person. If their values don’t align with yours, u n m a t c h.

The only way to weed out the ones who are DEFINITELY not for me would be if there was an anti-vax badge, and (for obvious reasons) I don’t see the apps doing that. To the men who are advertising that they’ve received their first shot (of two) and stating that they’re “fully vaxxed” – Sir, are you sure you understand the assignment? Yes – you’ve got some antibodies, but we’re not quite out of the woods. Finally, when a dude’s entire online effort is limited to “6′, because apparently it matters”, I don’t think a rinky-dink badge is going to push me to swipe right.

For those bragging that they have had both doses – and let’s say, for argument’s sake, that it’s true – flexing that you’re vaccinated is the opposite of wearing a mask. Hear me out: when you wear a mask you’re showing that you’re protecting other people from your germs. When you brag about being vaccinated, however, the cynic in me feels kind of like you’re saying, “hey – Netflix and chill will be safe … for me. Choose your own adventure!” Might as well f*ck without a condom, right bro?

The Badge is Bullsh*t

While dating apps seem to be a necessary evil, I’m hoping that once we’re all vaxxed, waxed, and relaxed, I can delete them once and for all. I yearn for the “before days” of bar-hopping; trying to find the cheapest shots and cutest guys. Dating apps have ruined the magic of the meet-cute. Even if there are fireworks (rare/ never guaranteed), they’ve conditioned us to always look out to see if someone better will come along. I don’t have all the answers; in fact, I may not have any. In my opinion vaccine badges are just another marketing gimmick. Just like you can’t judge a book by its cover, you can’t judge a bio by a badge.

2020: I Dated More During a Global Pandemic Than I Did the Last 2 Years

Toronto Dating Stories

I’m 33 and a half and am still single. I know – shocker! As we wind down the year, I tend to be reflective. All year I’ve been telling people that 2020 wasn’t as bad as 2019, because 2019 really and truly was a shit year for me and plenty of people I know. The end of 2020 is really giving me a run for my money, however.

Toronto Dating Stories

I’d say it takes at least 2 years to really ground yourself in new surroundings. Even though I’m a Torontonian born and raised (yes, real Toronto, not GTA) every time I’ve returned it’s been like I’m brand new and all kinds of lost. 2018 and 2019 I met a lot of people, and in 2020 it appears I’ve tried a few on for size at boyfriend auditions.

Toronto Dating Stories

I’ve met some really shitty people here. I’m sad to say my hometown is full of ’em. Hell – I’ve been a pretty shitty person on plenty of occasions. Perhaps that’s why I was recently the target of a catfishing affair. I think I know who it was. This person will feel very vindicated for the aforementioned declaration that I was a shitty person, but in that scenario I was only the villain because they adore playing the victim. They are selfish and toxic and though I’m sad to have had to create a boundary with them, I really don’t miss their energy and how it effected me. Scroll down to the end for more on that *fun* story time.

Toronto Dating Stories

Since February 2020 I’ve lived alone. My home office from which I’ve worked for the past 9 months is 5 feet away from my bed. My “home gym” consisting of two pathetic free weights, a kettle bell, and a stationary bike I had the foresight to buy the first week of the pandemic are tucked away kiddie-corner ten feet from my bed. It’s close quarters here and hard to feel lonely because imagining more than one person’s stuff in this space makes my muscles tense and my heart beat faster than I’d like. Still, this year I’ve dated more than the last two.

Toronto Dating Stories

2020 has been a busy year for finding out exactly who and what I don’t want. Maybe I’ll feel possessed to make this a series down the line, so let’s make a link-able list:

Before I moved, I gave the newly-minted lawyer with mommy issues another try. Once was enough this year.
My self-proclaimed “Crazy Rich Asian” made appearances up until May, but after two and a half years it just wasn’t going to go anywhere.
There was the guy who showed up drunk and heckled the headliner at a comedy bar designed for stoners (genuinely – the quietest comedy bar in existence) pre-covid.
Virtual dates never amounted to anything, but made me feel like I was doing something new and cool during a time where the entire world was on pause.
One virtual date escalated to a socially distant walk. He talked about toilet paper brands for at least 4 blocks.
There was the Hollywood Director who came back to Toronto to finish his feature film. He had ghosted me in November 2019 and by June 2020 was ready to make amends. Candidly – his movie sounds corny with overdone themes. He was so comfortable to be around and I really did like him. Alas, if it could have turned out any other way it would have.
The psychiatrist who just wanted to make out on TikTok (I wish this one was a joke, but he’s up there).
Mac – the one who ruined Thanksgiving had me commit to exclusivity because of covid while he was putting his dick in whatever would let him up at Yonge & Eglinton. Not giving it up has done me no favours.
The date who drove to a coffee shop a 5 minute walk from his place only for me to cut things short after 3 blocks of our “distance date”.
A personal trainer who wanted to appear “woke”, but really, really enjoyed his male/ white privilege. Tons of Daddy issues with this one.
Kiwi, who I’m pretty sure had the best of intentions, but thought Joe Rogan, Elon Musk, and leaving me on read for 3 weeks were pretty cool. Granted, I was in Vancouver for a weekend and didn’t reach out either, but I had kind of assumed things were over.
A dude whose entire personality was board games.
The one who brought red wine from the freezer and wanted to make-out in a TTC roundabout 15 minutes after meeting.
13 year itch. When I lived in Vancouver this dude took up all the real estate in my heart and mind. He found out I was visiting and asked me out, but bailed the day of, only to attempt a 1:30 AM booty call. Nah, b.
A commodities trader who walked with me at a safe distance, then took me somewhere with Christmas lights, Frank Sinatra, and bad dance moves. He claimed there was no spark and he didn’t want to see me the next day. It’s cool – I don’t what what doesn’t want me.
The worst texter on the planet. We’re still kind of seeing one another, but I figured if he didn’t text me “Merry Christmas” I’d release the ghost. He did reach out. Santa was good to him. We’ll see if he decides to reach out in 2021.
The Catfish. I didn’t send him (her?) any naughty pictures or incriminating information, so sorry if you thought this would be juicier! Just disappointing to have been targeted – especially during the holidays.

@thatgirlcartierStory time/ ##tiktokdoyourmagicplease ##tiktokdoyourthing ##catfished ##catfishedandghosted ##catfishedchallenge ##toronto ##yyz ##dating ♬ Whoopty – CJ

Toronto Dating Stories

So there you have it. I may have forgotten some other really boring distance dates (or pre-covid dates – I can barely remember a world without masks and eau de sanitizer), but you have the gist of it all. I have certainly learned what I absolutely do not want, as well as what I do. First and foremost, the vaccine. Baby, I want it. If it was on Tinder I’d swipe right in a heartbeat. Hit me with that love shot, ASAP. Secondly, I’d like an adult man with a kind heart, good communication skills, ambition, and who can make me laugh. My inner child is in a state of perpetual panic these days, so I’m looking for that twin-flame energy that can put my heart, mind, and body at ease. Pretty eyes and nice arms wouldn’t be the worst either.

Cocktails, Highballs, Drinks, Toronto

While most of my closest friends are already happily married and quite established, one of my dearest friends is newly single. Normally, I’d have taken her out to shamelessly flirt with cute boys we’ll never, ever see again. I’d have told her to hold off on downloading the hell-on-Earth apps until absolutely necessary. Moderna, Pfizer, AstraZeneca, let’s do this dance – preferably on a table at 2Cats vibrating at just the right frequency so that next year I’m only dating the one.