It was Friday night when I matched with this guy on Hinge: Chet. 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 Scorpios.
He was cute enough, seemingly single, and his bio said that he is, in fact, employed.
So I agreed to a date for the very next night.
The first red flag of the night is glaring and immediate: Chet pulls up in a Ford F-150 with a scratched-out “F*ck Trudeau” sticker on the bumper. I initially respect him for the change of political heart—such is certainly rare nowadays—only to realize that “F*ck Carney” is scrawled overtop in black Sharpie.
Nevertheless, I shake his hand and introduce myself formally. He smells like Canadian Classic Cigarettes and sweat.
I ask him where he’s taking me, and he says the destination will be a surprise.
“We’re going to a Calgarian staple! A true pillar of Albertan culture. Every time I go there, I feel enriched. You’ll love it.”
We end up at Cowboys.
He bypasses the dance floor and casino, directing us both to a bar seat in the sports lounge, then complains to me that they don’t have the Oilers game on the TV.
Our server greets us with water and a placating smile. I open my mouth to order a drink, but my date beats me to it.
“Two caesars, please, bud.”
He turns to me, eyes alight.
“Did you know that the caesar is an Albertan invention? Walter Chell invented it while bartending at The Westin back in 1969! What an absolute beauty. It's really important to support local. Albertan pride and all that.”
I smile and nod— I do quite enjoy a caesar. One drink and an infinitesimal amount of Walter Chell fun facts later, I ordered my second round. Another caesar, because I might as well lean into it.
My date, to my surprise, orders a Bud Light.
“I thought you only supported Albertan brands and inventions?”, I ask.
“Well… the hot sauce in caesars sometimes upsets my stomach. Bud Light settles me.”
Right.
When it comes time to order a bite to eat, he gets an 8oz steak. I ask if the steak is good here, and he says, “Not particularly, but beef is the only natural resource that Ottawa hasn’t completely stolen from Alberta.”
I get the salad and begin asking him my usual tirade of classic date questions.
“Do you want children one day?”
“Only if they’re able to have an Albertan citizenship and passport.”
“What are you looking for in a relationship?”
“Independence is super important to me.”
When I ask him his usual type of women, I swear on everything good and true, he starts describing Danielle Smith.
Should I invest in some tasteful women’s blazers?
The night comes to an eventual close, and our waiter returns to ask about the cheque.
“Together or separate tonight?”
“Separate, obviously.”, Chet replies.
I should've seen that one coming. He must not believe in federal transfers.
The waiter makes a mistake with one of the bills and charges for two Bud Lights instead of one. Of the incident, Chet simply rolls his eyes and gives an exasperated shrug. “This is just classic life under Carney.”
He offers to drive me home, and I say yes. Transparently, I want to experience the inside of that Ford F-150. He plays Tate McRae exclusively during the journey and complains about gas prices for eight minutes straight.
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. I can smell the caesar and steak on his breath. 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 is finally heard, my mind wanders back to him, I hope I don’t have to see him today.
