Fasten your seatbelts for the Hyper-Date

On to the next exhibit in my virtual rogues' gallery of dating.

This one is really an enigma. She shows up about 20 minutes late for our date and seems to be in some kind of hyper fast-forward mode.

She leans forward, smiles a lot, mirrors my posture and seems to like me. But there’s something odd about her behaviour. Like she’s desperately sprinting to a finish line or something. Some of the things in her online profile are now starting to seem a little exaggerated. And I’m realizing the photo she posted must be at least 10 years old.

The profile said she drove limos for VIPs and famous folk and this angle is played up quite a bit online. She even boasts of partying with her big-time clients after driving them. So I ask her which celebrities she’s driven. Well, none that you’d know, comes the reply. Hhmm, guess they must be those under-achieving kind of celebs that nobody ever hears about.

“Are you the one with the dog?” she asks suddenly.

“Um, no.”

“Are you the one who lives in Burlington?”

“No. I live in the East End,” I reply.

This kind of exchange happens a few more times. She must be setting up dates with quite a few people if she can’t keep us straight.

A week or so later I come home and find a panicked message on my machine that sounds like this:

“Hi it’s me. I’m on the Q-E and I should be at your place in about 15 minutes. Sorry I’m a bit late …blah blah hyper-blah”

I recognize the voice. She’s talking about driving out to Burlington. That’s the place that I don’t live in. She must have confused me with that other person again and mixed up our phone numbers. What a freaking loon.

Still, for a brief, fleeting moment I wonder what the hyper-hurry was all about. Did she make a bet with someone over who could a get a girlfriend the fastest? Maybe she was in line for a huge inheritance if she managed to get hitched in a month.

Guess I’ll never know. G’bye Ms. Enigma. We hardly knew ye.