A Ghost Story
Otherwise known as “Dating in the 21st Century”
I put my phone down, shaking my head. This was at least the 4,765th time I had checked to see if there was a happy-making little red dot with a number in it on my WhatsApp. Maybe I had just missed the telltale vibration, or annoying little dinging sound? I was still hoping he had sent a message. He hadn’t. It’s been four days. I think I can safely say I’ve been “ghosted.”
The Urban Dictionary defines ghost as, “Avoiding someone until they get the picture and stop contacting you.” I got the picture with the radio silence on day two, or rather my pride and my personal rules about chasing vs. being chased got the picture after day two. But my heart, (my ego?), and the places he so sweetly touched me? They want more. They are all still waiting to “get the picture.”
It started innocently enough. A coffee date turned beer date, at a tiny hole in the wall Czechoslovakian bar, on a quiet back street in Pankow, a northern neighborhood in Berlin. Hours of drinking beer, talking, laughing, light touches, and flirting, culminating in the most romantic of kisses. He held my hand and walked me to the U-Bahn station where we stood below ground, ignoring the smells and stares of other passengers. Shoulders leaning against the wall, facing each other, holding hands, feeling the wind pushing through the…
