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My Tinder Bender Date #8: I Think I Bombed

10/04/2013 05:44 EDT | Updated 01/23/2014 06:58 EST

In his profile picture, he's wearing a shirt that reads, "I'm awesome." Perfect. I only want confident men. I've dated insecure men before, and all that got me was a big bar tab at Fox and the Fiddle.

He lives in Mississauga. How did this happen? How did I hit the heart button on a man who lives in the centre of a chain restaurant bukkake?* Oh right... I obviously played on Tinder while I was doing shows out on Dixie Rd last week. Fair enough. He's cute. This is why Go Trains were invented.

He suggests we go to a place we both haven't been before. I like that idea. I suggest Hunters Landing. It's the same owners behind Williams Landing and South of Temperance. I text him this:

They always have good looking servers there. So if I look like ass, you have a back up plan.

(I can't use my usual "I'm wearing a padded bra, so boobs are not to scale," line because I'm wearing a strapless bra. All my strapless bras make me look twelve.)

Hahaha, no worries. Even if you look like ass, I'm sure I'll still have fun. :P

Guys really like writing that ":P" thingy, eh? I stick with the traditional smiley face, ":)".

I wear a white skirt, with another $3 shirt. How do I own so many $3 shirts? I kind of look like a cheerleader, or someone who's ready for a yacht party. If he's perceptive, he'll notice that since I'm wearing a white skirt, I obviously don't have Bloody Kitty. Who would wear a white skirt during BK? I hope he's not too perceptive though. I don't want him to notice I have to paint on my pinky toenail because I barely have one.

I decide to walk to the date. I love walking through the city with my ipod on. Maroon 5 really brings out the city. As I walk down Spadina, I text him.

I'm walking through Chinatown. Let me know if you need any Bok Choy.

(I know, I know... I'm such a flirt!)

As I make my final approach along Fort York Blvd, towards where the restaurant should be, I try to check-in on Foursquare. I don't want to be one of those girls on my phone the whole date. That's weird... the app can't find the venue... Then he texts me.

I'm a bit lost; where is this place exactly?

(Ooooooh. He used a semicolon. I'm impressed.)

As I approach the address of the restaurant, I see a sandy blonde hair dude standing out front of a nonexistent restaurant. There's just a big fence and a "Coming Soon" sign. Oops. Nice choice, Christina. Pick a bar that doesn't open for another two months, why don't you? Damn you, Hunters Landing! Your website looks awesome. I already read the menu and decided I was going to order the Herb-Panko Crusted Tofu Burger. I introduce myself in true Canadian fashion:

"Sorry!"

He laughs, and doesn't seem to mind the mishap. We decide to walk up to King St. and find a new place. We walk east. There's a ton of construction. Condos are being built on every corner, much like Shoppers Drug Marts. There's a giant "Do Not Enter" sign, but we're so close to Bathurst now. It would be annoying to turn around and go the other way. Surely that sign is just for cars. A pedestrian could easily buffer through this dirt, right...?

And then there we are, on the northeast corner of Fort York and Bathurst. Well, sort of... there's a giant railing we have to hop over. Ugh. Why did I have to wear a white skirt again?

"You go first. If you make it look easy, I'll hop over too."

He hops over, effortlessly. Fack! Guys are natural born fence hoppers. I, however, am not. A nice couple notices our obstacle. It's quite obvious I'm going to flash every one my ass if I climb over this thing.

"I'll block you," the girl says.

Then she makes a jumping jack position with her arms and legs, to guard the view of by-passers. My date grabs my purse, then grabs me from under my arms and pulls me over. Now I know this might seem like it would be romantic, him with my body in his arms, but it didn't feel sexy to me. I felt like a toddler being pulled out of a shopping cart.

Phew. That's done. We walk up to King St, and head west. I suggest the Foggy Dew. I know it's casual, but I like casual. Plus, I know they have a Taco Salad on the menu. I love Taco Salads. They're the best, because first, you eat a salad. Then, as a reward, you get to eat a giant chip. I happen to know our server (I get out a lot.) I explain we are on a Tinder date. Then I have to explain what Tinder is, because a lot of people still don't know what it is. (More pickings for me, I guess.)

We chat about online dating, our jobs, and past dates. He is a little shy (the Scorpios always are), so I definitely feel like I have my babble on. I can't have silence on a date. I just can't! Who knows what I'm filling this conversation with? Woody Allen, bananas, duo-tangs... anything that pops into my brain. Then he finally says,

"I don't mind a little silence on a date."

Yup. I'm definitely talking too much. It's probably a form of nerves, right? I'm not actually Six from Blossom, am I? Then he says,

"I'm not actually shy. I just like to think before I speak."

Not me, obviously. I'll think about what I said tomorrow.

He's a tech guy, so he admits it's hard for him to talk about anything that's not nerdy. (Cute!) He's super nice, and picks up the cheque. He believes the guy should always pay. As you know, I'm still battling with my stance on this, but since this is his belief, I accept. Who am I to interfere with a man's beliefs?

We walk along King St. in search of our next bar. As we cross Strachan, a car full of dudes cruises by. One guy hollers out the window.

"Hey, brother! Your girl is prettttttyyyyyyy!"

Immediately, TLC's "No Scrubs" pops into my head. I giggle a little. I'm still flattered by the compliment, even though it's from a guy hanging out the passenger side of his best friend's ride.

We hit up Williams Landing. Finally made it to a Landing! We sit at the bar. I'm a barfly, and always prefer the bar as opposed to a table. I buy the first round, since we walked, and I didn't get a chance to pull my "pay for the cab" move. He's definitely starting to talk more. He follows me on Twitter, so he doesn't mind me sending out a few tweets about the date.

Just told my Tinder date I watch The View and his head collapsed into his hands.

His head is falling into his hands A LOT. Who would have guessed a guy wouldn't be impressed be a girls extensive knowledge of Ke$ha? I'm pretty sure I'm not getting a call back at this audition...

He mentions he has a friend who works for Caramilk, so he always gets free chocolate bars.

"Maybe he knows the Caramilk secret!" I say. My date laughs.

"Wow. You gotta be old to remember that commercial."

Oh Shit! He just sent me to Burn City! I burst out laughing. I like a good burn. I deserve a good burn. I'm blogging about Tinder dates, for facks sake.

We manage to pack in three drinks before he has to grab his Go Train. He walks me to my streetcar stop (I roll in style, people.) I wonder if he's going to kiss me. My guess is no, because of how many times he shook his head during the date. I don't think he was impressed I watch Live with Kelly and Michael either. As the streetcar approaches, he hugs me and we say good-bye. And so another Tinder date ends.

He never called me again.

(But he did favourite that tweet.)

Keep calm, and Tinder on,

Walkinsauce

*I'm not sure I spelled "bukkake" right. My friend Cedric thinks it's "bukake," but I think it's "bukkake." I swear, I tried to look it up. You don't wanna know what popped up...