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The Journal2 minute story

Told by Imani

We had nothing to hide behind but tiny cups.

Second date. No wine list. A surprising amount to say about a towel.

I cut off half his head. He asked me to send it anyway.

I cut off half his head. He asked me to send it anyway.

Ben suggested a wine bar for our second date. Then another wine bar. Then a "listening room" whose photographs contained a turntable and, behind it, a wine bar.

I told him I wasn't drinking on dates for a while. I wanted to find out whether I liked the person or just the lighting.

"Tea?" he wrote. Then: "Somewhere with chairs. I'm not suggesting we walk around holding it."

That clarification did more for him than his profile picture.

We discussed the awkward bits first.

I suggested a bathhouse. Then immediately pictured meeting a near-stranger while dressed like him.

We checked the clothing rules, what was included and whether we actually wanted the same visit. I wanted heat and a quiet sit. He was curious about cold water. Neither of us wanted a bravery contest.

At the sauna door, Ben noticed people resting and stopped talking. A good start. Inside, he tried to fold a rectangular towel into a square. It remained a rectangle. He caught me watching, raised one eyebrow and gave up.

I had to look at the wall.

I said no. Nothing terrible happened.

When he went to ask the attendant about a supervised plunge, I stayed on the bench.

"See you after," he said. No persuasion. No little joke about being scared. I liked him more for a sentence he didn't say.

My hair tie snapped. A woman with an overstuffed blue tote handed me a spare. "I packed for everything." I believed her. There appeared to be a banana in there.

The tiny cups followed us.

After changing, we had tea. Ben held the little cup in both hands. "I feel like I've been called into a meeting with a doll."

That finished me. I laughed, spilled a little and finally stopped interviewing him.

We talked about a chair he had rescued from the pavement and spent sixty dollars fixing. Then we went looking for dinner and somehow ended up in another cafe, with more tiny cups.

I took his photo mid-laugh. Crooked table. Wet coat. Half his head missing. He asked me to send it anyway.

On the walk home he texted, "Next time, mugs?"

I said yes before I reached the corner.

End
Story details

First-person account ·

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