The man I date when I need to change my mind

Drizzle, darkness and the scent of mud. A tedious week, a hard month, but then there’s him. Dark locks like a Greek hero painted on a fresco, a smile unbothered and an insatiable appetite for pleasurable nothings.

“Hah, you came in like a herd of wild horses! Leave your jacket and come taste this!”

“Sorry, I -”

He rushes with a spoon and swiftly imitates the “here comes the airplane move”.

“Mh, what’s this?”

“My mother used to make this when we were young, it’s still very popular in countries around the Mediterranean, but what makes this one stand out is the pairing between the fresh basil and- “ sounds fade out as he continues to explain, now focused on chopping, swaying his hips to what I assume is music playing in the background. I’ve got so many things on my mind, what am I even doing here? The man’s talking about basil and pouring me a glass of wine, “ — I know some say this won’t really go with the main course, but trust me, you’ll find this red pairing very interesting!”

The drizzle turns to rain, it’s been dark outside for hours, and I’m in this man’s kitchen, a man I haven’t seen for months, and whose presence, up to this day, manages to shake me up in a manner I find hard to explain.