Day 16 Living Abroad: Overslept for Workout Class, Danced to R&B at Night

It’s Friday, and apparently, my body decided it was time to cash in on some much-needed rest because I completely slept through my morning Orangetheory class. But no worries—I managed to snag a later class. I’ve been really proud of myself for sticking to this commitment to bettering myself, especially since my dad passed away. Health and time have become two things I just don’t take for granted anymore. Missing out on opportunities because you’re not feeling your best is a lesson I learned the hard way. Case in point: I was supposed to jet off to Copenhagen for Fashion Week, and a sinus infection completely sidelined those plans. All that work to get invited to shows and events, only to cancel everything—it was a real bummer.

But here I am, feeling better, back in the groove, and so grateful for Orangetheory. It’s been my go-to class since I arrived in Toronto. The workouts are just the right amount of push I need in 50-60 minutes, and I can easily commit that time to myself every day. It feels like a small victory every time I finish a class, especially after how low I felt when I first got sick.

Fast forward to the evening—because you know the weekend’s just getting started. I had plans to hit up Mrs. Robinson’s, which has quickly become my favorite Friday night spot here in Toronto. They serve up some serious old-school R&B jams, and the food is on point. Plus, it’s Black-owned, which makes it even better. There’s something about supporting our own while enjoying a great night out that just hits different.

Now, let me tell you about this date situation. I’d matched with someone on a dating app, and we agreed to meet up at Mrs. Robinson’s. But red flag number one: he was 30 minutes late. You know that feeling when your gut is telling you this might not be it? Yep, I was getting all the signs. By the time he finally rolled in, I was already two cocktails deep. And these weren’t just any cocktails—I’m talking about a dark liquor mix that was dangerously smooth. Normally, I’m not one for dark liquor, but this drink was so good I couldn’t even taste the alcohol.

When he finally arrived, I’ll admit, he looked good. But let me set the scene—it’s August, and this man shows up in a velvet shirt and leather pants. I’m over here thinking, “Aren’t you hot?” He was looking sharp, but maybe save the winter fits for actual winter, right?

The conversation was decent, but it didn’t take long for me to realize we were not a match. I could tell he was into me, but I’m sorry, this man gave off some serious cheap vibes. We did enjoy the rest of the night dancing to some R&B—so I guess that’s a win. At least he danced, which is more than I can say for some of the other Toronto guys I’ve encountered.

But in the end, it’s a no from me. Toronto men, you’re on thin ice.