The Big Single

BY: JASON RAYNER

The face of a chronically single but nice gay boy.

It has been four and a half years since my last relationship.

Four and a half years. 

It would be powerful to say that this was a self imposed sabbatical - because, in a lot of ways it was. It just wasn’t an intentional self imposed sabbatical. 

I should also note that I’m being very generous when referring to anything in my dating history as a relationship. Throughout my 20s I found myself going from three month stint to three month stint, usually following the same cycle. I’d always start off high on the concept of connection, obsess over intensity, and then have it fall flat before it was ever really able to stand on its own. 

I’ve never been in a long term relationship. In fact, the last relationship I was in was my longest at four months. .

Exhausted from the cycle of my 20s, dating and relationships in my 30s became something I started to procrastinate. Any time I thought about the prospects of a relationship, I’d also question if I really needed one. After all, I happen to be a fairly independent person, and I actually like spending time alone. When Kelly Clarkson sang “Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone” I felt that. So why would I put pressure on myself to find someone to be with when I could hang out solo with a glass of wine, face mask, and Jennifer Lopez movie? Plus, I was getting very comfortable being the witty single friend who regales people at gatherings with hilarious and sometimes salacious Grindr hookup stories, or tales of disastrous dates with men who look like a mature Tom Holland that turn out to be priests (I say this as if this has happened more than once, it hasn’t. But it is also a true and tremendous story for another time). 

Well it turns out the unintentional self imposed sabbatical has ended. Because, after four and a half years, I’m finally ready to come out and say it. 

I want to fall in love. I want a relationship. I want a boyfriend. 

Even while writing those very sentences I could feel my heart tighten and my brain wanting to intervene and turn what I’ve written into a punchline that would to cover up my exposed vulnerability.

In all honesty, for all of my cynicism and the self deprecation I’m a hopeless romantic. I grew up obsessed with the deep pining love songs of No Doubt and Gwen Stefani and my teen years were influenced by Carrie Bradshaw and basically any rom com from Bridget Jones to Notting Hill or When Harry Met Sally. My favourite movie and book is Call Me By Your Name. The problem is, most of these stories make love seem like a struggle. Almost all of them involve a sequence where the couple is torn apart by a major obstacle that leads to breaking up until the end of the third act when they realize that actually, they were meant to be together. Or in the case of Call Me By Your Name, circumstance gets in the way (and sadly, in the vast majority of queer films, that circumstance is AIDS and/or death. But I digress), and love is just too damn precious to hang on to. 

As a result, I seemed to only crave relationships that felt difficult. And for years, I blamed those influences for giving me unrealistic expectations of love. 

It wasn’t until recently when I started replaying the limited romantic interactions that I’ve had over the last four and a half years that I realized I never was Bridget Jones (although I am clumsy AF, swear too much, and embarrass myself constantly), but maybe was more like the gay version of Hugh Grant (which in a way would also mean I get to be a Paddington villian. Although if I was in the Paddington universe I would never want to pretend to hate that lovely little bear. Wait. I’m getting off topic and referencing Paddington Bear again, aren’t I?). 

Of those men I did get involved with, some were dates that proved to be disasters (bad chemistry, the fact that he turned out to be a priest), some guys turned out to be flakes or jerks, but most weren’t bad at all. I just didn’t let that stop me from finding a way to make it not work.

I’ve realized that I actively look for the negatives. I look for delays in text messages, or opinions that I don’t necessarily agree with. If that doesn’t work, I try to make snap judgements on their maturity, assume they probably have a lack of ambition, or my personal favourite, I say that we lack the elusive sparks that every relationship needs (cue Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark).

Nothing is as bad as when a guy manages to clear all of those hurdles. Because instead of going with it, even if I have evidence that he likes me, I search for a way to convince myself that there must be a mysterious ulterior motive. Or that I’m trying too hard to make my “Elio in search of an Oliver” fantasy come true, and that I’m naively missing something that could end up hurting me. 

So I push them away. I become the one who doesn’t respond to texts or doesn’t hang out with them. I let them move on, and before I can give myself the space to be upset about it, I say that I’m relieved because deep down I knew it wouldn’t really work. 

In other words, I sabotage and put up walls to avoid the potential of rejection. I have become a cliche. How boring, I know!

That’s not to say this thought process is totally unwarranted. I’ve been through a lot, especially in the last year and a half - scroll through this blog for a sample platter of what’s been going on. However, I’m writing this to say I’m tired of repeating my destructive patterns. I finally feel ready to move forward and not let my past stand in the way. 

Now the biggest problem is figuring out how to do it. As noted earlier, I’ve never entirely removed myself from dating apps but it’s been a while since I’ve honestly put myself out there. Putting effort into online dating feels strange and uncomfortable. Partly because I’m making decisions on people without knowing anything beyond what someone lists as their hobbies, or how they answer “fun” questions such as “how my third grade teacher would describe me”. And even if I wade through that and find someone I match with, I still have to wait for him to message me back back. Messaging back, for those of you who don’t use dating apps, has the same success rate as waiting for Godot. You sit in vain, hoping for a response, and at least with gay dating it almost never comes (you’d be surprised by how many profiles outright make mention of this, and then once you match with them and send the first message never hear back). 

It’s a lot. In fact going to the Apple Store without a Genius bar appointment is more relaxing than online dating (for those of you who don’t own an Apple product, the Apple Store is the closest we will come to understand what hell on Earth is). 

Regardless, I’m up for the challenge. I’m learning to be okay with being open about wanting to find someone. I don’t know if I’ll be good at being a boyfriend but I also don’t want to waste any more time missing out on great people because of that uncertainty. 

So I’m writing this blog to hold myself accountable to putting myself out there. And if you know me in person, don’t be surprised if I ask you if you have any single friends, co-workers, or Amazon delivery men that I could potentially date.

DVD Collections Made Dating Easier

BY: JASON RAYNER

Yep. That's my actual movie collection. And a few books, too. Displayed PROUDLY.

Remember having a movie collection? Whether it be VHS (90s represent!), DVDs, or Blu Ray, there was a time when most people had a sizeable movie collection of films they not only owned but also displayed prominently in their living rooms. However, with the rise of Netflix and every other streaming service out there, collections stopped being added to, and much like CDs, DVDs and Blu-Rays are now seen as a marker of the past.

I, however am one of the few people who still proudly displays my personal library in my living room (see that photo - that's my collection!). And I have to be honest, I’m mourning (not a hyperbole, seriously) the days everyone had their collections proudly on display. Because looking at someone’s movie collection was not only an easy point of conversation on what kind of taste someone has. This is great for most social interactions, but was perhaps the most helpful of all for the toughest of social interactions, dating.

One of my favourite quotes ever comes from John Waters. He says, “If you go home with somebody, and they don’t have books, don’t fuck ‘em!”. Now, as someone who reads voraciously, but has a bank account that could be described at its kindest as slim, I don’t quite have the money for books and films. And since certain universities refer to film as the “literature of our time” (seriously), I’ve decided to extend this sentiment to film collections.

The standard film collection used to feature some key staples of the 90s - Titanic, Jurassic Park, and for most of the men that I dated (I can only speak of dating queer dudes), Mean Girls and The Devil Wears Prada (all of which have been in my collection at some time. I also want to take a moment to sidebar and reminisce about how my copy of Titanic was on a 2-tape VHS. Remember that? The movie was too long for one tape!). Scrolling through a collection would let me know if my future potential love of my life had depth - hopefully in between the staples there would be the odd indie like Before Sunset, or Lost in Translation, or an indie starring Nicole Kidman. This told me that while they liked things that were popular, they were also open to something a little different and artistic. Alternatively, if my date only had movies from the Criterion Collection I would worry about pretension. The outlier of Clueless or Sister Act in their collection was soothing because it meant that I was about to date someone who could also have some fun, even while being very serious about film as an artistic medium. If they owned a copy of Romy & Michele’s High School Reunion, I knew I had hit the jackpot because I was understood on a fundamental level.

Film collections, just like a music or book collection, say something about how we like to spend our time. They also give an insight on interests - someone with a wide range of Holocaust documentaries is fairly likely to be a history buff, someone with tons of horror films probably loves an equal mix of camp and is a bit of a thrill seeker, and someone who owns a 30 Rock box set understands my sense of humour. Film collections are also almost always displayed proudly either by a TV or in the living room.

It’s also a great conversation starter without having to ask a series of questions. This is essential when starting to date someone because there is only ask so many “and where did you live before you came to Toronto?” style-conversation starters before it feels like an interrogation. Loving the same movie can tell you a lot about what makes someone laugh and their sense of humour, what shakes them to their emotional core, and yes, if they are smart and can handle films with challenging or subtle plots (I’ve definitely had my fair share of guys talk about the glamour of Breakfast at Tiffany’s only to realize that they probably haven’t seen it and only bought the DVD because of the iconic imagery from the film). I also loved the idea of discovery that can com through browsing a film collection. I love hearing someone enthusiastically boast about a film I may not have seen.  If a potential lover tells me I absolutely must see The Tourist because it’s a beautiful love story, I’ll know that my idea of romance might not be in line with theirs (yes, this happened). If someone tells me that Best in Show is the funniest movie they’ve ever seen, I can fantasize our future together doing a Jennifer Coolidge/Jane Lynch couples costume for Halloween.

There were, of course, people who didn’t ever have movie collections. But I’m a film actor, film director, screenwriter, and film producer. Film is obviously a big deal to me. If you haven’t heard of Greta Gerwig we probably won’t have that much in common anyway.

Obviously you can’t (entirely) judge someone just by their film tastes. And just like music, we still are sharing art with others. In fact, we probably share more with people because everything is so much more accessible. But there was something about running through your hands of a DVD collection feeling like you were getting the sneakiest sneak peak at a part of someone’s personality without having to do too much prying. It also confirmed the general rule to avoid people who own copies of Boondock Saints.