Dating the Canadian Male - published in ELLE Canada, November 2005

GOODFELLAS
One British woman discovers the secret rituals of dating - Canadian style.

In England, when a guy doesn't call after a date or two, well, he just doesn't call, and you can cheerfully go your own way pretending that he accidentally fell off a cliff or something. You see, British men are somewhat reticent with their feelings. After months of living with one, he might go so far as to mumble, "I think you're alright," while staring at the ground and shuffling his feet like he has to pee. If you're lucky. This, at least, means that when your British date acts as though he likes you, he sodding well means it. You know where you stand. In Canada, it appears, there is no such luxury.

After moving to Vancouver last year, I fell - in quick succession - for the guy who did call (to tell me he wasn't going to call again), my gay professor (which isn't really Canada's fault, but is unfortunate all the same) and a guy who patiently explained who Wayne Gretzky was when I admitted ignorance, and then never called again. Maybe he accidentally fell off a cliff?

Undeterred, I scored a date with the most Canadian of Canadians: a six-foot-four ex-military man who'd spent time chopping down trees in northen British Columbia - or maybe planting them; I was too busy staring adoringly into his goatee to really listen. It was then that I had a revelation about Canadian men: they really are very nice. And when Mr. Canadian Army was all "You put a smile on my face," I was flattered. Until he didn't call.

Now, it can't be that he accidentally fell off a cliff because surely in the army they teach you to avoid that sort of thing. So I can only conclude that he just wasn't that in to me. It seems that the poor lads are conflicted between being overly earnest and calling to say they won't call, and being so Canadianly enthusiastic about you that you reasonably expect them to call. Before I fall for another one of these flannel-wearing charmers, I think I'll stick Post-its around my apartment that say "Remember, he's Canadian - just because he acts nice doesn't mean he likes you."

Because, despite mixed signals, insultingly clear signals and numerous goatee burns, I still think Canadian guys are lovely. They possess a remarkable lack of chauvinism, yet every man I have dated over here has picked me up at home for a date. I love that Canadian men smile all the time, are comfortable with PDA and make me laugh when they gush for hours about the latest NHL sign ups.

So I haven't given up. I've resolved to read up on "The Great One." I'll even grow to like orange macaroni. But one thing is for certain: the minute a Canadian guy starts saying nice things to me, I'll stick my fingers in my ears and sing, "O Canada, we stand on guard for thee."