Canadians Shouldn't Let Snow Keep Them From A Hot Date

Actually, Canadians should seek out as many hot dates as possible in this weather.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I struck up a chat with an Italian guy on Tinder. Our initial chat wasn't bad, he could hold a conversation and he decided to give me his number. I'm not the biggest fan of giving out my number because I don't want to have to change it if a guy turns into a stalker. I took a chance and started texting him. He's music producer that makes songs for TV and movies. He sent me some of the songs he did and they were actually quite good. I was expecting some basement tracks with bad beats and worse lyrics. I actually put one of the songs on my iPod, which is huge for me. He actually makes a good living off of the songs he makes, so I won't lump him in with the rest of the "music producers" that I know.

Now, the pictures he had on his profile left a lot to the imagination. They lacked a proper body shot and 90% of them were selfies.  He told me in one of text conversations that he was 5'10" and 250lbs, which is literally two of me. Not to sound more superficial than I normally do, but I have recurring nightmares of being smothered to death by a... bigger man. Nonetheless, I threw caution to the wind and attempted to meet up with the Italian. He lives and hour away on the other side of the city, but he drives an SUV. What became annoying to me was that he would always suggest that I come over to his house.  Eventually, I told him that I wasn't going to meet a stranger, in a town that I've never been to, at his house. That's how you end up in the evening news with people commenting on how your naivety got you killed. I wasn't planning to pack up my dog and drive an hour out of the way to have to go to work later on in the day. What started to piss me off was that he kept asking me to come out there knowing that I have to work the next day when he works from home and makes his own hours. He's telling me how I should spend the night... on our first meeting... in the basement of your parents house. Yeaaa, I'm gonna go ahead and pass on that. I didn't fault him for living at his parents; he has a rental property that he chose not to live in so that he could save money. Good investment, but if I were him I wouldn't be so quick to invite the ladies over to my mom's crib. Especially if this particular lady has a place of her own. I'm just saying.

Either way, I decided to make plans to meet him downtown for some food and a movie. In my typical type-A fashion, I got the movies tickets a few days before the date as I didn't want to have crappy seats and it was the opening weekend.

We continue to text and it's going pretty well, except... he's an over-sharer. And he sounds like he's either quite sickly or a hypochondriac. The man tells me that he has gallstones which are apparently, very painful. Then he decides to share that he has a cyst, that is infected, at the small of his back, that is the size of baseball. But I must not look at it on the date. That's like saying, "Hey, you see that big red button over there? Yea? Well, no one knows what it does so don't push it."

The day arrives and... it's snowing. It's actually snowing quite a bit. All of my friends are asking if the date is still on and, up to this point, it was. I was like, "It's just snow. I'm not afraid of snow. I'm Canadian." At around 6, he texts me to tell me that it's snowing too much. What the....

To be continued..