So my next date unfolded at a photography shoot for a band. Photography, which we both enjoyed, was also a good focus for our conversation.
Sharing the same sense of humour, we laughed and talked into the wee hours of the night.
None turned out to be the optimistic, self-assured traveller I was looking for. Instead of a restaurant, perhaps an activity would give me more insight into his personality and possible shared interests.
On the flip side, the unromantic conditions of my overseas life had caused severe loss of dating know-how. Conversation should be relaxed and flow without awkward silences.
If you find the person attractive, interesting and fun, you arrange to meet again. My reintroduction to dating in Toronto was set to happen at a hip downtown bar with a couple of friends.
While we were discussing our next move, music suddenly started blaring so loudly it killed the conversation. Our trio of not-wanting-to-be-cougars raced back to my place and my stockpile of red wine. At the end of the evening, the faces and conversations blurred together; not a single guy stood out as someone to see again. Meeting men through mutual friends was no longer possible, as none knew any single and dateable guys. Sundays that summer became a joyous mix of sand, sun and beer. Encouraged by such a long relationship, I grew bolder.
Conversations with other singles netted valuable information about meeting mates online. Dating online screamed, "I am an old-fashioned dimwit that's completely unable to meet and/or converse with potential mates." But single friends eventually convinced me that online dating was the most straightforward way to find a partner once you're out of school.
At one point, a Facebook employee stood to demonstrate a search for “friends of my friends who are single and living in San Francisco.” And that’s when Facebook entered the online dating game, doing away with what was, until now, a fragile divide between quotidian online activity and the act of browsing for potential mates.