10/13/2013 11:35 EDT | Updated 01/23/2014 06:58 EST

My Tinder Bender Date #10: The Out of Towner

I tell him he looks way younger than 43. "You don't look 34 either," he says. "Yay! We're just two people, defying age! We must look young, because we avoid things like marriage and babies!" He coughs a little. "Actually, I've had both."

He looks like Jason from General Hospital. Even though I was more of a Young and the Restless girl growing up, I still remember the dreaminess of Steve Burton. He was also on a show called Out of this World. Remember that one? It came on after Small Wonder. No? You don't? Well, long story short, he's a facking babe.

I message him first. We have three mutual Facebook friends, so if he ends up being creepy, I have three friends to ask, "Why are you friends with a creepy guy?" I open our communication with this:

Woo hoo! Someone who's over 30! Too many kinders on here...

He messages back.

Ha! Screw 30. I crushed those. 40 is where it's at :)

He's actually 43, but you CANNOT tell. He must have cut the Cheez Whiz out of his diet at an early age. Steve Burton (let's just call him that, so I can fulfill a childhood fantasy) tells me he's visiting from Calgary. That's another great feature of Tinder. Since it's GPS based, you can land in a new city, and start shopping for local babes. Vacation flings are the best. You can anonymously have a one night stand, then go home and just tell your friends how great the Empire State Building was. The lay doesn't even have to go on your record. (Not that I would know.)

I'm going for dinner with my girlfriends at a Mexican restaurant before the date. I know American readers are probably thinking "Yikes!" right now, but don't worry. Canadian Mexican restaurants haven't quite grasped the authenticity of how many refried beans are supposed to go on the plate. Our bums are pretty safe up here. What we're not safe from is, how tacky I will dress when I go to a Mexican restaurant. The only thing I'm missing is a sombrero. I know this is NOT a sexy dress to wear on a first date, but a guy might as well know right off the bat, I shop drunk sometimes. Especially on a holiday. In Berlin, you can drink on the streets, so you can imagine what kind of state I was in when I bought this dress. (I also bought hot dog earrings.)

Steve Burton mentions he used to work at Benetton with a comedian I know, back in 1991. I loved Benetton when I was a teenager, but Esprit was my real favourite. I don't tell him this, obvi. I don't want to hurt his feelings. (But seriously, I hope he doesn't still work in retail.) I tell him to meet me at Hemingways, in Yorkville. Fack! Why do I keep taking dates here? The staff MUST think I'm an escort by now. He beats me to the bar, and texts me to let me know what floor he's on.

I walk up to the third floor and look around. I see a guy sitting alone at the bar. He doesn't really look like the dreamy Steve Burton shots I saw on his profile... this was bound to happen. Some people look totally different than their online pics. I don't actually wear a pink fedora as much as my FB pics would make you think. I awkwardly walk over. As I approach him, I'm scared to say anything. Finally I say,


Then he says,

"I'm Justin. Are you Steph?"

I burst out laughing. I guess I'm not the only online dater who uses Hemingways for first dates.

"NO! I'm not! Haha! Are you on a Tinder Date too?"

"OK Cupid."

My date texts me, informing me he's on the OTHER side of the bar. Whoops. And sure enough, I turn around to see Steve Burton waving. Bonus. My date is way hotter than Steph's date. She'll figure that out once she gets here. (Whoever she is.)

I give Steve Burton a hug, and declare my embarrassment of approaching the wrong guy right in front of him. He smiles, and his dreaminess immediately makes me feel like I shouldn't have worn this dorky dress. Damn me. This always happens on days I go to the gym. I get overconfident. Like I can pull off any outfit. He's a total babe. I find myself zoning out during the conversation, thinking things like:

I must be the grossest girl this guy has ever been out with...

I bet all his exes look like Olivia Munn...

Maybe he doesn't just date brunettes... maybe he's had a couple of blonde girlfriends. Not ditzy looking blondes, though. More stern looking blondes, like Charlize Theron...

You're so quick to complain when guys aren't as good looking as their profile pictures, but sometimes I think it's ME who doesn't look as good.

I finally land my brain's personal space shuttle, and start focusing on our conversation again. He's really nice. I can't help but compliment him on how attractive he is. Not everyone who's gorgeous actually knows it. Some hot people are actually insecure. I tell him he looks way younger than 43.

"You don't look 34 either," he says.

"Yay! We're just two people, defying age! We must look young, because we avoid things like marriage and babies!"

He coughs a little.

"Actually, I've had both."

FAAAAAAAAAACK! Foot's in the mouth again. And it doesn't taste good, cuz these Birkenstocks are pretty worn out. (Yes, I wore Birkenstocks on a date. Don't judge me. No wonder I'm self-conscious.) I was totally prepared for the kids on the last date, and then they were non-existent. This date I wasn't expecting them, and here they are. These kids must be gorgeous too. Little Steve Burton/Olivia Munn's. Maybe they already have a show on Treehouse.

He has two daughters. Cool. We probably have the same taste in music. Steve Burton confesses he knows all the words to "22" by Taylor Swift. SWOON<3! What could be more charming than that? Our server comes over to us and explains that she's finishing up her shift. She asks us if we can settle up, then another server will take care of us.

OF COURSE! Let me take a time-out for a PSA: If a server is done his/her shift, and asks you to settle up, please do so. Don't be a jerk about it. He/she has done all the work up until this moment, and deserves the tip. That's it. That's my PSA. (You can tell I've worked in this industry too long, eh?)

We settle our tab, (yes, he pays, but I leave the tip), and we relocate to seats at the bar. We are now in Justin and Steph's old seats. I guess their date didn't work out as well as ours. Take that, OK Cupid! We are getting along great, though I think I've mentioned I shouldn't have worn this dress 16 times. A creepy guy walks up to the bar, and asks if the seat next to Steve Burton is taken.

"No, go ahead."

The guy introduces himself to Steve Burton, and sort of me. But really, he's focused on Steve Burton. He strikes up a conversation, and I do my best not to feel awkward. Is this creepy guy trying to swoop in, and steal my date? This is what happens when you're out with a super babe. Even dudes will hit on your man. This must be what Katie Holmes felt like.

I can sense Steve Burton's getting uncomfortable too. Maybe it's time for a venue change. I suggest going over to the Bedford Academy. After all, I'm also a tour guide for this Calgarian. I should show him a bar off the beaten path. I doubt tourists would spot this place. Plus, they have Strongbow on tap. Nobody has Strongbow on tap anymore.

As we walk down Prince Arthur Avenue, Steve Burton is checking his phone, with slight concern. (He has a cracked screen too! Somebody tweeted me a new drinking game. Every time I date a guy with a cracked iPhone, you have to have a drink. So go grab a beer and come back.)

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, it's just the buddy who I was supposed to crash with tonight isn't getting back to me."

Hmmm... Right. He drove his mom's car from Burlington. It's definitely not appropriate for him to drive. Maybe he will get a hotel room? Or sleep in his car? (Er, I mean Mom's car.) I know any good Newfie would offer up accommodations no problem.

"You just come back to me place and crash on da chesterfield, yes B'ye."

But I'm not a Newfie. I'm a single girl. This guy is super sweet, but I'm not ready to bring him back to my Ke$ha shrine yet. We take a seat at the bar at Bedford Academy.

"I'm buying this round," I say. "I'll have a Strongbow, whatever he wants, and two shots of Ted Bundy." I gasp. Fack! Maybe NOT an appropriate joke on a first date.

"I'm just kidding! I don't think you're Ted Bundy at all! Fack! Terrible joke. My bad."

(But if my dad finds out about these blogs, he's definitely going to send me a copy of the made for TV movie about Ted Bundy, starring Mark Harmon. He'll find it in Blu-ray, to really scare me.)

I can tell Steve Burton is starting to worry about where he's going to crash. We haven't even made out. He's showing no creepy vibes.

"Okay, you can sleep on my couch. Nothing kinky. Well, maybe we can kiss. But my place is really messy. Like really messy. And I'm friends with all my neighbours, so they will hear if I'm screaming for my life."

Wow. Romance has really been slaughtered by the fear of serial killers, eh?

As we walk back to my place, I babble more about how messy my apartment is. Even more than I babbled about my Peg Bundy dress. (A more appropriate Bundy reference for a first date.)

We walk in my apartment, and I give him the "grand" tour. I teach him how to flush the toilet. It does flush, it just makes a bubbly noise that will drive you nuts if you don't deal with it right away. I make the pull out couch, like I would for any houseguest. He's very grateful. Steve Burton is in my apartment. And he's not even murdering me. I give him a kiss, and then retreat to my bedroom. My bedroom door is busted, so he'd probably never figure out how to get in, anyway. My apartment is pretty much one big booby trap. Safety resumed.

He leaves at 6:30 a.m. because he has to move his car. He sends me a nice text, thanking me for the couch. When I finally walk into my living room to turn on Kathy Lee and Hoda, I notice money on my couch. Not Richard Gere, Pretty Woman money. Just more escaped change from a man's pants. $2.50. Thanks, Steve Burton. You just bought me coffee.

That makes my earnings from Tinder a grand total of $5.25. Sweet.

Keep calm and Tinder on,


P.S. I can't think of a P.S. for this blog.