Our First Date Was a Quick Drink on His Yacht
Compatibilities can be revealed very quickly
Content includes swear words in conversation.
Sometimes it can be really easy to determine if someone is a match. Certain compatibilities — or incompatibilities — get revealed very early on.
We matched online and exchanged a few messages before agreeing to an old-school phone call. The chat went well enough that we agreed to meet.
He had a short window of time one afternoon, when I had a bit of time before a meeting. His boat was at the dock, only a short walk from my home. He invited me to meet him at his boat for a drink, and suggested we plan a proper date of drinks or dinner for another day, when we both had more time.
“I’ll be back at the boat in 5 minutes. Meet me there.” He texted.
“I can be there in 10.” I replied.
I arrived at the dock in 10 minutes and took a few more minutes to find his boat. It was a large, luxury yacht with multiple floors and multiple decks. I didn’t see anyone around.
I called out “Hi! I’m here!”
No one answered.
I checked my phone to confirm the name and description of his boat before I hopped aboard, calling out again that I’d arrived.
Climbing the stairs to the aft deck, I noticed the sliding glass door to the galley kitchen and living room open. The living room and kitchen were beautifully decorated with what looked like a designer’s touch. Beside that, another door was slightly open, revealing stairs down to a lower level.
I called into the doors, asking if he was around. No answer. I stood on the deck and texted him that I’d arrived.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Explore. Make yourself at home.” He texted back.
Hesitant to explore a boat I’d never been on without an authorized person on board, I sat on the deck and waited.
Eventually, he showed up wearing sunglasses, a baseball cap, a polo shirt and shorts.
We shook hands and introduced ourselves. He offered me a drink, then grabbed cans from a cooler on the deck, and headed to the kitchen for glasses and limes.
We went to the upper deck to enjoy the shade and the view, while we chatted and sipped our drinks.
The conversation started about smaller, generic topics, and then he directed it to politics, “Trudeau is fucked and he’s fucking up this country.”
“I haven’t been following politics lately, so I don’t have an opinion on it.” I replied, not taking a stance.
He continued for a few minutes about what Trudeau was doing that he didn’t approve of. Then he shifted the conversation to how crime and homelessness in the city has gotten worse. It’s true: crime and homelessness have both increased in the city.
“I don’t know what to do to fix it. It needs to be cleaned up. Get rid of the homeless and the crime will stop.” He said, very simplistically.
He continued on a bit, “Singapore doesn’t have any homeless people. They just take them and kill them. They don’t have these problems.” (*Note: I didn’t fact check his statement, so I don’t know the validity of his statement, or how the homeless are treated in Singapore.)
He paused for a short moment before continuing, “I mean, killing them might be a bit extreme, but we need to find some kind of solution.”
I answered that multiple case studies have documented that when given housing (like tiny houses) and support and community — when people are supported to feel as if they are valued human beings — that goes a lot farther in helping the community as a whole, as compared to simply relocating homeless people or treating them as a nuisance to be rid of.
He went on a bit more about how the city is fucked, Trudeau is fucked, and we’re all fucked.
I noticed my body feeling uncomfortable and I suggested we shift the conversation, “This is a really big topic and we’re not going to solve these problems today. Could we talk about something else instead?”
“Yeah, maybe this isn’t great conversation for a first date.” He agreed.
We shifted to other topics, and chatted a bit, but he did give me a few more clues about how he felt about people in general.
At one point in our conversation, he told me, “People lie. All people lie. People are liars. Can’t trust ’em. Except me. I don’t lie. I never lie.”
This reminded me of my father, who had said those same things as a repetitive and redundant mantra. It’s a form of extreme thinking that separates one self from everyone else, and that doesn’t allow for the acceptance that most people will lie once in a while, but it’s the frequency and severity of those lies that are more indicative of patterns.
My father claiming to “never lie” was an indicator of his revisionist memory and his lack of self awareness.
My father regularly experienced objective things differently than anyone else around. When we’d recall a scheduled time that was written down, or a group event that had happened, my father’s memory was often different from the general consensus (and from the recorded facts,) yet he would stick to his memory as the “truth” and accuse everyone else of lying, changing facts, or being insane.
My father regularly claimed that he was the only one telling the truth and everyone else was wrong or being manipulative or crazy.
It must be a difficult life to live, when believing that everyone else is out to get you.
My father’s behaviour and reactions were reality-shifting for me to grow up with and experience over the years. I got very good at remembering precise details, and checking facts and perspectives with evidence or other people who were present, as a way to confirm my own reality and sanity.
I asked this date on his yacht, “Everyone lies? Except you?”
The date confirmed what he’d said, “Yup. Everyone lies. Everyone is a liar. Can’t trust anyone. Except me — I never lie.”
We conversed about something else, then he proceeded to jump to another topic and state, “I’m not a hypochondriac.”
I don’t know where this statement came from because it didn’t seem to have context to me, but it did seem important for him to share with me.
Then he said, “I’m obsessive. I’m a wine collector with a big wine cellar, and…” he continued on about some of his other interests.
I’d had a limited time for our drink before I had to head off to a meeting, so we ended our visit and said our goodbyes.
He didn’t pursue me further and I didn’t pursue him. We never saw each other again.
I noticed a number of red flags with him. The biggest one was that my body felt tight when I was with chatting with him; my body was saying “no.” His extreme ways of thinking, and the patterns that reminded me of my father meant that we weren’t a good match.
A younger me might have given more chances, wondering if I was just making a big deal out of nothing, or maybe I just didn’t have the context or information, or something else. Maybe we could see each other again?
Today, I’m quicker to accept people as they are. I see thought patterns and behaviours as key indicators of compatibility. I don’t try to change or shift them to a dream or a potential that I might imagine.
I accept that not everyone is a match for me. And that’s okay. I’m not a match for everyone either.
Compatibility doesn’t need to be a judgement: it can be that two people simply aren’t a match.
I’ll adjust my efforts or leave accordingly.
