This online dating stuff sure is no walk in the park. How do you explain to your match that sure, drinks would be fine, but the prospect of sitting on a train for 40 minutes to attend said drinks is making me realize I’m just not that interested. And if I’m brutally honest I’d much rather sit at home and play Red Dead Redemption II. Thankfully most dating apps allow for guilt-free unmatching for no reason. Who needs a guy anyway?
Or so you think to yourself, as you’re cycling home from work in the rain and dark. Traffic lights are reflected on the wet pavement. Underneath my hood my headphones play a nostalgic tune, immersing me in my own private cocoon of reality. Blegh, rain, I think at first. But it’s also familiar. Cycling in the rain is a part of Dutch autumns, always has been. And this rain was long overdue with the dry summer we’ve had. And really I know, from years of experience, that yes the initial cold and wet is chilly, but cycling warms that right up to the point where I no longer care that my jeans are soaked and my face is wet. I no longer feel the cold. I think about what is different, being single. I experience a flash of feeling of what my life is like now, a brief zoom-out if you will. My apartment where Hazel sits, waiting. My job, the merger. Me, on my bike in the rain on a normal Tuesday night. And just like that the feeling is gone. And I realize that although I consider myself content with the current state of affairs, I also felt in that brief flash a sort of… deficiency, for lack of a better word. A limit. A question, just outside my horizon asking, is this it?