Article

Poushali Mullick

Blind date

Hello, what’s your type?
By Poushali Mullick

She was late. My date.

My eyes restlessly rested on the door, every few seconds. My table was right at the centre, so I had a good view of the door.

I love Chinese eateries.

But today, time strolled, at a snail’s pace. A dimness, hummed. Somewhere around, laughter clinked into glasses. Red lamps glowed with a sweet anticipation. The air was fragrant with Chinese five spice powder and a strange clawingly sweet incense.

I fidgeted with the fork on the table. Blind dates were never my cup of tea. This was my first and I felt I was at the edge of a cliff.

My friends were crazy. Arun and Joy. They set me up without a fair warning. I wish I could wring their necks.
The only thing I knew about… my date, Sonia, was that she was apparently “my type”. I was clueless as to what my type was. But somehow the mystery around Sonia seemed… intriguing.

My mind kept conjuring images, kept lingering over the words. “She’s my type.”

My hands were getting clammy. A million what if’s… kept clamouring in my head. “It’s silly sweating over a woman,” I mumbled to myself.

Just then, a woman walked in. Like a light headed breeze.

I knew it was her, the minute I saw her.

“She’s not nervous like me,” I thought.

Her soft brown hair had bold fiery red streaks at the edges. She wore a simple yellow dress. A brown belt wrapped its arms, around her waist. A smile purred on those glossy lips.

I watched her scan the room, and walk towards me, slowly. As I rose to pull out a chair, I thanked the boys for putting me up for this. I just couldn’t help smiling.<

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“Ahh, my type!! Yes!! What a relief.”

My mind smiled knowingly now. I was quickly thinking of witty one liners… when she… whizzed past me.

I stood there for a second. A second, when time had a heart attack.

Everything seemed too loud, suddenly. The laughter and hugs and the chair being pulled. A noisy mess it all was. And it happened right behind me … in slow motion.

I sat down after complaining to the waiter. Something about the wobbly table and the dim lights and it being too damn noisy for my taste. All the while, I felt, I had been glaringly exposed. Awkward. Someone walked in. Again. But this time I didn’t look up. Until she came and said, “Hello, I’m Sonia… And you are…?

My mind sneakily whispered, “Hopefully… Your type.”