My friend Victoria had a birthday party last year and invited a mish mash of all of her friends, many of which I had never met before. The dinner was held in Kits at the ever-popular Mexican restaurant Las Margaritas, with guests arranged in usual dinner fashion, first come first serve. Seated near me was the birthday girl’s sister’s best friend. At first I wasn’t so certain, but he caught my eye a bit as the evening progressed.
I’m not sure that people have a ‘type’ like we seem to believe. But I do notice that the boys I go for are often the same. This guy, Curtis, had all those qualities: lanky, tall, and awkward. He even came with messy hair, a nice vest, and glasses. Pretty much a physical clone of the Courier’s copy editor, Giles Roy (See page 1 for photo). Over the dinner, we exchanged light conversation, and the next day he requested me as a Facebook friend. After a few messages, we decided to “hang out.”
We met up for coffee downtown and stayed for what seemed like a pretty short time, but in actuality was a few hours. I figured that must have been be a sign, and we continued to hang out. What I wasn’t sure, and what started to become more ambiguous throughout the day, was whether or not Curtis and I were just meeting up as friends or for a date. Consequentially, was he even gay, or was he straight, unsure, or otherwise?
We went for lunch at a food court in Bentall Centre and continued our conversation there. Things seemed pretty fine, but like many first dates (or “dates?”) it was rather surface and safe, talking about pop culture and asking questions about ‘favourite things.’ At the end of the day, we left without a hug, or even a handshake. I thought things were fine in terms of a first meeting, but I was still uncertain about the exact conditions.
I evaluated things in my mind and considered that not everything needed to be black and white. I could walk away from spending a day with someone without needing to know feelings and labels and all that. Sure, I wanted to know if this guy was even into me and what would come next. But I also thought it was nice, in a way, just to spend some time with someone and not have to worry about appearing a certain way and just act natural.
Following the one time we hung out, there was much talk of a second meet up, which never happened. Plans got cancelled repeatedly, and eventually we just fell off of each other’s radar. A few months after, I was with Victoria, and we had a conversation about what had gone down, or what hadn't. Apparently, neither her nor her sister had ever heard him mention anything about girls, or boys, that he’d been out with. Some messages went back and forth in which he provided no answers or resolutions.
At the end of the summer, I discovered on my Facebook newsfeed that Curtis was moving to Toronto, and decided to message him, looking for some answers and seeing if he was interested in meeting again before he took off. Again, he attempted to make plans (or at least faked it), but we never ended up seeing each other. He blamed time constraints, but I believed it was a bit more conscious than that. We did exchange another series of messages, though, that were even more vague and distant than the last.
In one of his messages he asked me “What would be the point? I understand you as a bit of a romantic, and I hardly have half a heart.”
In one of his messages he asked me “What would be the point? I understand you as a bit of a romantic, and I hardly have half a heart.”
We never hung out again, but recently I got wind that Curtis writes a column somewhat similar to mine for a website in Toronto where he now lives. His column, however, identifies his dates without names, and therefore genders. After reading a few weeks’ worth of material, I understand that not only am I confused about him, but he’s equally lost on himself.
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