5. Sebastian
FIVE
SEBASTIAN
This might be the weirdest dating app message I’ve received, and that’s saying something.
YouveGoatMail:
I am an animal loving yogi who leads goat yoga classes, so if you like to get sweaty and dirty, I’m your girl!
I try to imagine how yoga in a barnyard works.
Typically, I assess possible matches based on what I’m looking for—a fun evening with zero strings—but now that I’m going to post about my experience, I also need to explore any matches that could make a great story.
The goat woman would check that box, though I hope we’d get to clean up after the yoga sessions because manure is not the smell I’m looking for during an amorous encounter.
I’m open to a lot of things in bed and outside of bed, but farms are not my thing.
How did I even get to contemplating barnyard yoga?
Oh right. I had trouble focusing after I sent Ashley the paperwork, unsure if she’d tear it apart.
Seth kept shooting me looks like he was sure something was up but didn’t want to say anything.
After the office, I pushed myself during a workout in the condo gym to take the edge off my anxiety, then tried to work on my laptop, but I ended up staring at the screen, finally determining it a lost cause.
Hence why I’m now trying to decide whether goats are a deal-breaker.
I put off messaging the goat lady and start dinner instead. I usually meal prep on the weekends so I can have something balanced and healthy on the nights I’m not out. My mom calls as I’m putting pre-cut vegetables and a chicken breast in the oven.
“Sebastian, you’re at home,” she says, her voice raised in surprise, like she didn’t expect me to answer.
“How did you know?”
“No background chatter, no clinking on plates, no music,” she replies. Wow, are my habits that obvious? She chuckles, adding. “Also, you picked up right away and didn’t immediately say you can’t talk for long.”
That stings. I try to be available in case she’s lonely.
She and my former stepfather had a busy social calendar with bridge clubs and golf foursomes, but since they split a few years ago, she doesn’t get out as much.
Raymond was the social director of their relationship.
I worry that I’ve dropped the ball and am not around enough for her.
I decide not to follow this train of thought. “Yep, I’m making dinner. So, how’ve you been, Mom?”
“Oh, I’m good. Your brother came by on the weekend, and I sent him home with lots of leftovers.”
I can only imagine how much food Curtis had to tote home with him.
Probably enough to feed him for a week, though at twenty-three, he and his roommates must appreciate not having to cook for days.
God only knows what they’re eating otherwise.
The last time I stopped by, there was nothing in the fridge except beer, coffee creamer, and seven limes.
“That’s nice.”
She doesn’t respond to my comment, instead going down the list of updates for everyone I know even tangentially—my half sister Penelope, my Aunt Barb, several cousins, her best friend Wendy, Wendy’s cat.
I guess it has been a while; she’s been storing these up.
Even though I don’t particularly care about Wendy or Mittens, I appreciate that my mom wants me to feel connected to everyone.
“That’s great Mom,” I interrupt before she can give more details on Mittens’ new diet. “Just a sec. My oven timer went off.”
“Oh, sure, Sebastian. I’m so glad you’re eating real food and not take out. You need to keep healthy with all those nights out. By the way, are there any—”
“Nope, no ladies,” I interject. I saw that coming a mile away. She always asks about a new girlfriend as though I might have magically changed into the marrying type overnight. “I’m enjoying the single life.”
“Well, don’t enjoy it too much or too long.” She chuckles a little.
I roll my eyes and remind myself she does this because she cares, and she truly believes the best path to my happiness is marriage to a nice woman followed by a three-bedroom house and a couple of kids.
Even if I wanted that, I don’t know who can afford that kind of life in Toronto these days.
But I let her dream if that makes her happy.
“Thanks, Mom. I have to eat now, but I’ll come by soon, okay. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I take the pan out, nearly burning myself because I’m too distracted, then put the food on a plate and laugh ironically to myself about how sad my mom would find this lonesome single guy meal.
At least I have real vegetables and it’s not a frozen dinner.
I put on a light jazz mix and enjoy my meal for one.
As I’m clearing away my dishes, my phone pings with an email from Ashley, returning the paperwork with some revisions. It ends with “Okay Bash, let’s do this!”
Got your message. Thanks! I’ll review the revisions. But no one calls me Bash these days.
Ashley:
I do.
I probably shouldn’t read too much into a happy face emoji, but it fills me with a sense of reassurance that I haven’t totally fucked this thing up. Not yet, anyway.
With Ashley on board, it’s time to focus on my own part in this crazy plan.
I took some photos for my profile a few days ago, but I’ve been at a loss on what to post. After dinner, I sit down with a decaf espresso and open the documents Cleo sent me reviewing the media landscape on dating.
Then I go down an internet search rabbit hole looking at relationship commentary from men.
I double check that I’m using a private browser because I don’t want to know what these searches will do to my algorithms.
My stomach sinks perusing the links. I knew some men were bitter, but wow. Apparently, no women are interested in you if you aren’t over six feet tall and making six figures, which is news to me because I’m shorter and broker than that, and I’ve never had any trouble finding companionship.
Some of the other links are focused on improving oneself, which is a worthy goal, but I’m the last person who should be giving life advice.
So, what do I have to offer? I’m just a guy with a charming smile and a string of one-night stands. For the first time, I wonder who the hell decided Sebastian Rossi was any kind of authority on the subject of dating? Oh wait, I did. Fuck me.
It’s probably not the greatest idea to reach out to Ashley given this morning’s mess, but I can’t help myself.
I know I roped you into this dating influencer thing, but I’m beginning to think I’m punching above my weight in doing it myself.
You? The guy who managed to successfully woo not one, not two, but three of the girls in our Stats 101 class?
I’m not sure that qualifies me to give relationship advice.
Oh God no. You?
Gee, thanks so much.
Focus on what you’re good at.
That will get my profile blocked.
Why did I say this so soon after our hookup?
Not that, you perv!
Remember how you used to give advice to the guys on our floor, obvious stuff like not wearing old sweats when meeting a girl, or what kinds of restaurants are better for dates. Stick to that stuff.
One would think grown adults don’t need that kind of advice, Ash.
Tell me you don’t know how low the bar is without telling me…
Noted.
We chat for a while, and the pieces start to fall into place.
I have nothing to give in terms of relationship advice, but I’ve amassed tons of knowledge over the years about the balance of fancy versus informal dining on a first date, how to communicate expectations beforehand, what topics to avoid, and how to sidestep uncomfortable questions without looking like you’re in witness protection.
I pull up a document and start making notes on my game plan. This might actually be fun.
Mr. Six Reel (with transcript)
Mr. Six appears on camera with a Toronto Blue Jays cap and Groucho glasses, in front of a bookshelf that displays a photo of the Toronto skyline and a framed print of the Single In The Six logo.
“Hello, everyone! Welcome to my page. You can call me Mr. Six. I’m a Toronto-based programmer and tech nerd, but I’m not here to talk about computers.
This account will be focused on my experiences in the dating pool.
I’m single and like to mingle, if you don’t mind the cheesy turn of phrase.
I’ve been using this app to meet women in Toronto for the past year.
I’ll be providing commentary about dating in the city, what tips I have as someone who goes out a lot, how to make the best of dating apps, and I’ll tell some stories—good ones and bad ones—about looking for love in Toronto.
“Now, I know there are a lot of guys online with so-called dating tips, but having perused some of their content, let me be clear: I’m here to chat about the scene, not to complain about women or promise you the secrets to getting ladies in bed with you.
This is intended as a positive space for all genders and persuasions.
If you just want to rant about why someone won’t sleep with you, better to scroll on by.
“But enough about dating. I’ll tell you a little more about myself.
I’m a straight guy in my early thirties.
I like the finer things in life: good coffee, excellent cuisine from all over the world, and nights on the town.
I grew up in the Greater Toronto Area, and I currently live near the waterfront.
“I’m looking forward to connecting with all of you! Drop me a comment and let me know what type of content you’re interested in, or share your best tips for dating in the city.”
Comments:
Interesting concept. I’d love to hear about how people keep romance alive in the era of dating on the web. Seems like there are no surprises any more since the internet is forever.
Dating in the city is wild, man! Can’t wait to hear some of your stories. I’ll bet some are hilarious.
OMG another guy pontificating about getting game. No thanks.