Everything is Already True

Lockdown dating means you have to get creative, so we meet at a Polish pro-choice protest.

I had pictured something a bit… Mel Gibsony. A “throng”, as they say, eager Polizei lining the sides, hopped up on MRA mp3s. Maybe a bit of light argy-bargy at the end, aerosol hisss for effect, a snatch of hands and a dash through tram doors, allies slick with solidarity.

I take in the reality: a caffeinated Sunday gaggle, and a punk fiddling with the wires. A handful of leisurely coppers, keeping an eye on mask etiquette. I check my phone again. The animator from Bumble is late. (The second tardy Polish date of the week; the first left me standing for 20 minutes, then asked if I could get my CEO to do her podcast.)

Meeting new people is an art in disappointment management. Which is another way of saying that it’s an art in separating the movie in your head from what’s actually happening in front of you.

She arrives, says hi, and then looks down. “Cool, my friends will be here in ten minutes. I haven’t seen them for ages.”

I’m sorry. Your what?

5 strangers; 3 languages; 1 potential love interest. This is new levels of conversational jujitsu. I try to channel Bruce Lee. Be like water, he said, but he probably meant a nice stream in the woods and not, like, a puddle outside H&M, or that weird water that pools at the bottom of bin bags and busts on the first floor stairs ‘cos you were too cheap to double bag.