were the lights dimmed for me?!

How do you even now if a date is a date if you have just half an hour ago? We decided to call it a date. It makes a better story of how we met to tell nosy people. A second date helps in that regard as well.

On a Saturday evening, I sat on the edge of my bed. my stress levels soaring because of my university workload. I grab my phone to distract myself. I automatically mindlessly start to browse my social media. I also use a lot of dating apps. I have used them for almost three years now, foolishly looking for company. After a series of scrolls and swipes, and after stress and frustration overwhelmed me, I decide that today I am looking for friends, the excitement of meeting interesting people, to be more accurate. I messaged three guys who had "looking for friends only" on their profiles. Messaging new people is always nerve wrecking for me; all I could think of is people looking at my profile photo and go: "No, thank you", "no reply is a reply" as some people write on their profiles. Before one minute has passed, I got a ping. one of the profiles I messaged had a little orange square with "1" written in it. Someone has messaged back! the profile had very little on it, no age, not even a photo. I thought for myself "he can be a creep or a psychopath". Today, I will take my chances. I am not in a position to be picky, so I typed a generic "what's up?", replying to his hello, trying to curb my expectations and excitement. as you can tell by now, I might be a bit desperate. I never knew how to reply to "what's up?" but used liberally and deliberately to make people fumble for an answer, just like it made me fumble. I also used the phrase to be able to emulate people's answers in my future replies to "Hey, what's up?". By now, we know that English is probably not my first language.

I have always wondered about what people think about my profile photo on that dating app. does the "Mop" (as this lady in her late 70's at work referred to my hair once) of curly hair on top of my head make them a bit uncomfortable? does my skin colour make them wonder where I come from? whether I am mixed-race? do the little pink spots on my cheek make them think I am younger than 32? does what I got going on on my face make them curious? or dismissive? too many questions. it is funny that all it takes for all my insecurities to disappear is one reply to my message (every time we talk about this moment, he jokes that he only messaged me back because he was drunk). I thought he was one of the most attractive guys I have ever seen when he sent me his photos, dark hair and beard, big dark eyes, thick shiny eyebrows, flushed cheeks. I can go on. after maybe half an hour of chatting, he invites me to watch stand-up comedy at his place as his housemate is away. He was a merely ten-minute walk away, on a street that I walk by everyday going to the library. My familiarity with the area made me feel a bit relieved. the darkness starting to descend made me think "he might be a serial killer" (now I know he is not). I took my chances and rang the bell feeling very nervous about who is behind that door.

the door opens and my heart starts pounding. the inside lights are dim, illuminating a dining table in the centre of the room with the corners swallowed in shadow. a warm inviting voice coming from a silhouette behind the door called "hey, come in". I walk in. the silhouette steps back more into the light, under a dark beam going through the ceiling to meet two other vertical beams. I panicked for a second: “is that all what is supporting the ceiling!” I told myself (he told me later that that is how Victorian houses are, no safety concerns). I caught myself later thinking: "were the lights dimmed for me?! Is it an attempt to be romantic?!". I was offered a drink, but I declined, as I did not want this date to be interrupted by my need to use the bathroom. We walk down a narrow staircase leading to a low-ceiling basement. Very cosy or very murdery!

The basement has an extended light-grey sofa that runs along the length of two of the walls, a tv in the middle of the third wall and a stand with knickknacks on the fourth wall. I never understood why people have nick-nacks, they just collect dust and look cluttered! In the corner where the two sides of the sofa meet, a small round wooden table, too high and too far to be reached from the low-seating sofa, reflect light on its resin finish. A glass of Merlot next to a wine bottle sitting on top. I peered to see how much is left in the bottle, but it was too dark. Is he drunk?

We watch stand-up comedy for three hours. If English is not your first language, you would know that comedy is difficult to understand due to the intense cultural and political referencing, compounded by a British accent. I struggled to understand sometimes. However, whenever, he laughed, I would laugh. Just so we have eye contact and I get to see more of his face, as light from the tv screen reflects on his face. Unprompted, he started guessing the jokes that I did not get due to a reference to a British celebrity I did not know, or a cultural behaviour that I did not understand or a politician that I have never heard of.

We both felt sleepy, we both had long days, but we both were not ready to end the evening yet. He asks: “another episode?” “sure!” I reply. When we finally decided to end it, as we both looked miserable as we passed our bedtime by hours (people in their thirties have a bedtime on weekends as well), we both looked a bit disappointed. As the time was approaching midnight and I was walking home, I thought about how much I liked this mysterious guy. The attraction and sexual tension I felt every time we locked eyes. Was it mutual? I wondered if he would call me again, as I crossed my arms close to my chest, shielding myself from the cold.