Kiss and Tell: “My date’s apartment was full of snakes”

Welcome to Kiss and Tell, a series about the steamy, surprising and frequently absurd world of Toronto dating. Send your most memorable stories from the pursuit of love and lust in the city to submissions@torontolife.com.

—As told to Lisa Saban

I first got connected with a man I’ll call Ethan on a dating app last year. After a week of bantering over text, we met up at Dufferin and Bloor. It was late November and a bit chilly. I remember waiting on the northwest corner when a man wearing all black rode up to me on a beat-up old bicycle, out of breath. “I almost got hit by a car biking down Dufferin just now,” he said. “You’re crazy for biking on Dufferin—it’s a death trap,” I replied. He laughed. “I’m not afraid of death.”

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He locked up his bike, which seemed to be in dire need of a tune-up, nearby. We walked a couple of blocks south to this grungy lesbian bar where he seemed to know everyone. “Do you work here or something?” I asked him shortly after we ordered drinks. “Not exactly,” he said. I quickly learned that he didn’t like to talk about himself. But what he did like to do was tease me and rant about municipal politics. He was 32, so a few years older than me, balding and with thick facial hair. I didn’t mind that, but his energy felt a bit tense.

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Before meeting Ethan in person, I’d asked him over text what he did for a living—his dating profile listed his profession as “self-employed”—but he said he’d tell me in person. At the bar, once we’d loosened up a bit, I asked, “So, what is it that you do?” He laughed and said, “I feel like I’m being interviewed. But, if you must know, I’m a snake breeder.” My jaw dropped. When I told him I actually quite like snakes, he lit up. “Really?” he said. “That’s a relief.”

I told him that my best friend’s dad growing up was a snake breeder, so I’d grown up playing with them. Ethan was impressed but also surprised. He said I didn’t come off as a snake girl because I seemed too “soft.” I laughed and told him that I saw snakes as being more cute than hard-core. He smiled, then went off on a rant about how snakes are the devil reincarnate—which I thought was hilarious.

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At this point, I became aware of Ethan’s leg touching mine underneath the table. We were a few drinks deep, and I didn’t mind. He gave me the low down on the different snakes he had, showing me pictures of them off his phone. Before we knew it, it was last call. Ethan asked if I wanted to come back to his place and meet his snakes. I thought, Why not? We were having a good time.

We walked a few blocks south, toward a large, rough-looking apartment complex. A group of people were hanging out in front of the building, smoking in their pyjamas. I felt a bit nervous but I tried not to overthink it.

His apartment was on one of the top floors. Before we went in, he turned to me and said, “Thank god you like snakes. I brought a girl home recently who didn’t, and she had a panic attack.” Poor girl, I thought.

We entered his apartment, a small studio. When he turned on the lights, I realized just how many snakes we were talking. Large glass tanks took up the majority of the space, yet a mattress on the ground was covered with them. “I like to let them roam free sometimes,” he said. “They get so cooped up in those tanks.”

I kept my shoes on—the floors were way too grimy—and looked around for a place to sit. Other than the mattress on the floor, the glass tanks and some milk crates, there was no furniture. I began to feel uncomfortable, but then I felt something licking my ankle. I looked down to see a ball python slithering between my legs. “That’s Freddy. He’s really chill,” said Ethan. “You can pick him up if you want. He won’t mind.”

I did. Freddy was about four feet long, with large brown and black dots. He wrapped himself around my arm, flicking his tongue. “It took me a while to get him to be comfortable with being handled,” said Ethan. “He used to hate it.” Hearing Ethan talk about his snakes reminded me why I liked him: we both shared this strange fascination with a creature that is often seen as violent or scary. I began to warm up to the situation.

Before I knew it, I was sitting on Ethan’s mattress and playing with his snakes. One wrapped itself around my neck; another was in a ball in my lap. There was even a baby snake called Milky, which was so cute and small that it could fit in the palm of my hand. I was in heaven. “How much do you sell your snakes for?” I asked Ethan, who answered that Milky was, in fact, for sale, starting at $400. As it happened, I had just been promoted at work, and I actually considered buying Milky.

I was so focused on Milky that I didn’t notice Ethan, who had taken his pants off and was now wearing only a T-shirt and underwear. When I realized, I laughed uncomfortably and asked what he was doing. “I want to have sex with you once you’re done playing with the snakes,” he said.

I froze up for a moment before telling him that I didn’t want to sleep with him. That’s when things became sour. He got offended and said I had been leading him on the entire night. He even accused me of using him for his snakes. I told him that was ridiculous and that he was freaking me out. It was time to leave.

I quickly untangled myself from all the snakes, left his apartment and took an Uber home. I blocked Ethan’s number—I had no desire to remain in contact with him—but sometimes I still think about Milky. I should have slipped him into my coat pocket and taken him home with me. He was too cute.