It was Friday night when I matched with this guy on Hinge: Noah. The app, in its all-knowing power, dubbed us “Most Compatible Match.” By that, I assume it meant that we live in the same city and are both Leos.
We chatted, he seemed sweet enough, and so I agreed to a date for the next night.
When we agreed to meet, truth be told, I was anxious. He pulls up in a Tesla, which to me is a bit of a red flag but maybe wants to do his part.
I take a few steps back, wondering if it may be too late for me to leave and then I look and see a bumper sticker that says “I got it before Elon went crazy” and I can’t help but roll my eyes.
He got out of the car, with his tote bag adorned with CBC pins, which gets me to loosen up a little, maybe he’s not that bad.
We walk into Civic Tavern and find a table upstairs by the window.
We try to make small talk, in which he asks me if “I had heard Mark Carney’s speech at Davos?”
I told him that I had seen bits and pieces of the speech, to which he begins to wax poetically about the 17 minute speech, telling me about how he is the greatest prime minister we’ve ever had. I roll my eyes, and pray that someone comes to check on us shortly.
When someone finally arrives and asks us what we would like to drink, he makes a point of ordering some local craft beer that costs way too much, and in an obnoxiously forced quebéc accent, tries to order poutine.
“s'il vous plait,” Noah says to the waiter. To which the waiter replies a little too quickly that they only serve pizza. Noah’s smirk shifts to a defeated pout.
As the server leaves, I try to steer the conversation away from politics and ask him what kind of films or TV shows he likes, to which he replies, he exclusively watches Canadian content only, “like Corner Gas, and Letterkenny,”. I can’t help but ask him if he has even tried to venture out to smaller budget shows and films made by Canadians, or even tried to check out local artists, he just blinks at me.
Clearly there is a “taste-gap” here but that surely wouldn’t be the first time that has happened to me.
Before long the food arrives and he continues to go on talking about Mark Carney, as if he’s his personal saviour, talking about how he loathes Pierre Poilievre that he doesn’t trust the federal NDP as a serious party, and going on about how only the Liberals could govern this country. Or that somehow, Mark Carney is this country’s “saviour.”
“These hicks in Alberta don’t know how good they have it, everyone here just wants to separate” said Noah.
That’s what gets me, I begin to explain that not all of us want to separate from Canada, that I love my country but honestly worshipping politicians is the exact opposite of what we should be doing. We should be careful and critical, regardless of if we like how they stand up to the yanks.
“Politicians aren’t saviours, they should be held to account.” I said.
He cuts me off suddenly, asking me “if I want to go door-knocking for the Liberal Party of Canada.” I respond with an exasperated sigh and ask for the cheque.
When he drives me home, it’s nothing but the Barenaked Ladies and it feels futile to fight him on his taste in music.
Finally, he walks me to my door. I turn to say goodbye only to find him leaning in close. He inches his lips forward, closer and closer to my face by the second. This is it; he’s going in for the kiss.
Except, he’s not. Instead, he whispers into my ear, low and sultry, “You know, this upcoming referendum is super important. I hope you’re voting.”
I slam the door and delete Hinge that very same night.
When I do eventually go to vote, I stand inside the gymnasium ready to make my voice heard and my mind wanders back to him praying that he isn’t gonna greet me at the door.
