“I came up here and got an awesome job, one I would have killed for back home,” she says.
But she eventually grew sick of the guy (and the online flirtations he continued to engage in with other women after she moved there), so they broke up.
(In Toronto, it’s 39.) Katrina, 27, a dance-school administrator with long dreadlocks, says the selection of “gorgeous guys” threw her off at first.
She’d been through the wringer with men in Vancouver, then met a commitment-minded guy in Fort Mac—but she’s not ready to settle down.
The stereotypical Fort Mac story goes something like this: young man from Ontario or Newfoundland heads west, makes 0,000 a year and blows it all on toys (trucks, quads), blow (which exits the system faster than weed, making it prudent in the face of on-site drug testing) and women. But more are there to pay off debts and save for the future.
The city is somewhat diverse, and since there’s not much going on, individuals from different backgrounds seem to actually associate with one another.
But for many Canadians, it’s the only place to make a living wage.
The municipality’s 116,407 residents are 57-percent male.
It’s way better than languishing in a bad relationship, and my life is rich in other ways. Work can’t stroke your hair when you’re waiting on medical results, much less tear your clothes off. When an acquaintance of mine, Sofi Papamarko, started her Toronto matchmaking service, Friend of a Friend, she was deluged with so many female applicants that she had to temporarily close registration for women and start hustling for guys.
By the time Lisa picks me up at the airport, she’s “totally over it” and ready for her first single girls’ night out in her adopted city.
We’re joined by her coworker Salem, 27, a native Fort Mc Murrayite, and Shana*, 24, an environmental sciences graduate from Newfoundland, also single, who acknowledges that while the scene is better in Fort Mac than back east, it’s definitely not the promised man-land its demographics might suggest. The mood here is more casual than in Toronto, and the female servers are wearing less.
Papamarko’s female clients tend to be “dazzling across the board,” she says, while many of the men “don’t have their lives nearly as together.” Yet her male clients often seek traditionally feminine virtues: young and pretty over successful.
Even a sense of humour can be seen as a liability in a woman.
Her friends Laura and Michelle—equally accomplished, equally attractive—are sitting in a booth at Earls, a restaurant–cum–pickup joint for Toronto’s Financial District crowd.