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Single in Vancouver: Morbid curiosity killed the cat

DH Vancouver Staff Dec 06, 2013 9:33 am

My first dating experience in Vancouver is one for the books. Unfortunately, my book is already pretty full – so this one gets its own book.

I met him at the Blarney Stone (I know, I know). To be fair, he was working, and not a drunk patron. He seemed like he wasn’t a psycho, so I agreed to give him my phone number. That was my second mistake, as the first mistake was clearly going to the Blarney Stone.

When he called me a few days later, he asked if I wanted to go bowling. Sure, why not. I haven’t bowled since I was 12. Maybe it’s more fun than I remember. He said he’d come by to pick me up in a half hour. However, 45 minutes later he called to tell me to come outside and meet him… in the pouring rain. For some reason, I agreed to do so, and stood outside a donut shop… in the rain… waiting. When I called him to ask what the hell had happened to him, he said “I’m just getting a beer, hold on.” Then, I saw him… bicycling toward me holding a giant hipster beer bottle and a big fedora, in the pouring rain.

“Hey, it’s raining; can we hang out at your place for a bit?”


When we arrived at my house, he approached my roommate outside and asked her why she wasn’t at work. When she told him that she worked from home, he replied, “That’s good, so you don’t have some (C U Next Tuesday) boss looking over your shoulder?”

As my roommate and I exchanged a deer in the headlights look, he walked into my house, straight into the living room and picked up my laptop off of the couch.

“Have you ever seen a bull moose charge a car?”

“Uhhh.. no, I haven’t.”

“Check this out,”

We watched not one, but THREE videos of bull moose charging at different vehicles. He then played Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer,” which could have been enjoyable had he not walked around my living room pretending to be a hitchhiker, holding a bindle.

He then asked me about the couple who lives upstairs. “Yeah, they’re cool,” I said.

“Is she hot? Can we go talk to her?”

“Umm… no, probably not.”

“You know who I really like? Latino women.” Well that’s perfect, since I’m pretty much the whitest blonde girl you’ve ever seen.

“Also, girls with black hair and blue eyes.” Right.

“You seem really uptight.” Yeah? Do I? Well, you seem insane.

Meanwhile, he’s downing the large hipster beer that he brought over… just the one, by himself.
He then asked me the first of two questions he would ask me all night.. “What was your midterm on?”

“Lifespan development.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“Well this was focusing on nature vs nurture mostly.”

“Ohhh okay, I think I know what you mean. Like when there’s a flower, and there’s a tree in front of it, and the flower can’t get enough sunlight and it dies?”

“No.. no, that’s definitely not it.” I’m no biology major, but I’m pretty sure that’s photosynthesis.

After informing me that my roommate’s dog was intimidated by his male presence and deep voice, he suggested we go to our destination. I know you’re probably wondering why the hell I would ever go anywhere with him after this, and I don’t have a good answer for you.

He realized once we got on the bus that he didn’t have any change for fare… so he had to sneak on. So classy. I spent the bus ride listening to him talk about his future son, and how cool his future son was going to be, and how that future son would listen to everything he had to say, since the child would be intimidated by his deep voice and masculine form, “Just like your dog.”

“Yeah.. just like my dog…”

We stopped to get pizza where he told me that bowling was three games for $15. I’m thinking, $15?? I’m a broke student here.

But for some reason, I went along with it. I think I was morbidly curious as to what could possibly happen next.

Once we got into the bowling alley, he asked me the second, and last, question of the night. “You wanna beer?”

Dear god, I want ALL the beer.

He ordered three beers, two for him and one for me. PBR, of course. Then, he tried to shotgun one of them at the counter.

“Hey man, you can’t do that in here,” the guy working at the counter told him.

“Comon, guy, I’m just trying to get a buzz on here!”

Keep in mind, it was Wednesday… at 5 p.m.

The bowling part of the night was actually the least painful, since a group of sassy hilariouslesbians was bowling beside me. I mostly talked to them.

It was then that my roommate texted me. “He left his phone here.”


This required him to take the bus back home with me, which gave me another opportunity to listen to his thoughts on life.

“You know, lesbians don’t actually have sex.”

“… Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you know, there’s no penetration there.”

“Okay, I don’t agree with you, and I don’t really want to talk about this.”

With Vancouver being what it is, two other passengers decided to jump in on the conversation. I sat through 10 minutes of them discussing whether or not lesbians are having sex, or just fooling around. When I could see my bus stop, I felt very relieved… it was almost over.

“Man, I’m so tired. My buddy had us all over last night with some models, and everyone was doing blow.”


My bus gets off right outside of a donut shop, which gave him another opportunity to be a sexist weirdo. “You know, donuts are really fatty.”

“Uhh… yeah.”

“You know, I’m thinking about women here. You know, women and their fat?”

No! I don’t know! What the hell are you talking about?? What the hell have you been talking about for the last three hours?

My roommate had placed his phone right beside the door, so that he could make a quick exit. “Well, here’s your phone. Have a good night!”

“Yeah, yeah, that was cool. Hey, I’m trying to start up a band, you should come jam with us.. I’ll text you.”

Yes… please do that …

Morbid curiosity killed the cat (I wish I was making this up. It is very real).


Readers have been sending us their worst and most entertaining date horror stories. Here is yet another tale of dissapointment here in Vancouver.

Send bad dates to chelsea[at]


Image: Arieliona / Shutterstock

DH Vancouver Staff
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