T.O. in Love – Right Place, Wrong Name

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‘Toronto in love’ is a brand spankin’ new series where anonymous writers share their highs, lows & hilariously horrifying tales of dating in the 6ix.

I’ve Tindere’d. I’ve Bumble’d. And after each time I vowed to never do it again.

There was nothing horribly wrong with these experiences, I just didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t care to meet a stranger and make small talk. Was I meeting the wrong people? Saying yes to dates too easily? Who knows. We could analyze my dating approach all day long but the point is, I wasn’t enjoying myself. It wasn’t fun. So I gave it up.

Famous last words.

After a recent (and rather painful) ending-of-a-fling, I downloaded Bumble in a moment of panic. At this rate I was set to die alone, and I needed to try and curb that.

So I swiped. I struck up convo after convo (which, by the way, do you have any idea how many people didn’t respond to me? Ego hit.)

I had a few conversations going. A few numbers got exchanged. And somewhere between choosing that profile pic and cleverly responding “lol” to a text message, I found myself agreeing to a date with a guy named Neil.

I bailed on it.

We rescheduled.

This time I went on the date. I mean, he was cute and had a good job and was actually pretty good at texting (which I think we can all agree is a fairly unique skill in this day and age). What did I have to lose?

“Alicia?” he asked as I showed up to the bar.

“Hey,” I smiled. He looked different than I was expecting. Like, significantly.

We sat at a table. We ordered a beer.

“So you work at a travel company?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I work in finance.”

I was surprised, certain he had told me of this job he had with offices in the Greek Islands because I oh-so vividly remember a wild fantasy I had where he whisks me off to Greece, free of charge, and we fall in fairly-decent love.

The night went on. We ordered a second drink. The banter was okay, the vibe was decent, and I wasn’t dying inside. But I definitely knew this would be the one and only date with Neil.

We wrapped it up after drink 2. He waited with me for my Uber – and I sensed he was just as okay with the fact this date was ending as I was.

“Alright Neil,” I said, giving him an obligatory quick hug before getting in the car. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Neil?” he said. “My name is Alex.”

I stared at him. “You’re not Neil?” I asked.

“No.” he said. “I’m Alex. Alex the accountant.”

And as our eye contact lingered we both realized that in the lovely world of online swiping, sometimes your random numbers and text messages get crossed and you think you’re meeting someone else. Sometimes you meet Alex the accountant instead of Neil the travel agent – and sometimes you don’t realize this until 2 hours (& 2 beers) later.

“Sorry,” I said, not sure how to salvage the situation. To my relief, he laughed.

“Well, maybe you and Neil will hit it off better than we did.”

“I mean maybe” I laughed back.

He walked away.

I got in the car

And I deleted Bumble off my phone once and for until I panic about dying alone again.

Oh – and in case you’re wondering, no. I never actually did meet Neil.

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