I (26F) don't really date much. It's just never been my thing. But I'm doing well in most aspects of my life and I finally felt ready enough to actually put myself out there.
I started with a few "test" dates with some guys I met on Tinder and Bumble. Just a way for me to dip my toes in the dating pool without getting too serious too quickly. I was completely upfront about this with guys and a few of them were totally cool with it, which was nice.
Conversations and drinks flowed, and everything went well. Especially with one guy in particular. I hadn't thought anything of him initially. But he was kind and I loved the way he made me laugh. It also didn't hurt that he was very cute. We had gone on a few other dates after our initial one. And by our fourth, I felt safe enough to meet him at his place for a fifth date.
Johnny (not his real name) lived about thirty minutes away, so I had time to clear my head. And the weather was nice, which helped calm my nerves a bit. I hadn't been over to a guys house for a date since my freshman year in college. But by the time I was knocking at his door, my nerves had actually turned into excitement.
He opened the door and smiled at me, which made me more excited. There was just something about his crooked smile that made me adore him.
We stepped into his apartment and began our fifth and final date.
Inside, the room was mostly candle-lit, save for the kitchen. The overhead lights revealed a wide array of pots, plates, and food. Johnny popped open a bottle of wine and poured me a glass. I sat myself down at a nearby table. It was dressed with more candles, some flowers, and fancy silverware. If he wanted to impress me, it was working. I liked how much thought he put into everything.
Dinner went especially well. As always, he was great at conversations and flirting. Teasing him was fun too. And I could tell with every smile he'd flash me that he was enjoying it just as much as I was.
In all honesty, up until that point, it had been one of the best dates I'd been on. Johnny was incredible and I was ready to make things serious with him. But I felt it best to leave it for the next day since we were both full and tipsy.
We finished dinner with a slice of chocolate cake he'd picked up from a local bakery. The chocolate was rich, decadent, and fresh. But my God that cake was something else. So moist.
I decided to ask about why he'd decided on takeout for dessert. He immediately averted his eyes and started fiddling with his ring finger.
"Is everything okay?"
He stopped fiddling with his finger and pushed up his glasses. There was a crack in them, small enough that I hadn't noticed before. "Yeah it's just... well, it's complicated."
Those famous words. I’d heard them often enough in movies and books. And I knew where this conversation was heading. Or at least, I thought I did.
"I'm a widow," he continued. "My wife and I, well we loved baking together. It was her passion."
He started to touch his ring finger again. I wasn't sure what to say. He was my age, which meant they must have met young. The pain he must've felt with such a loss... I wasn't one to complicate things either. And I knew it was best that maybe we end things or at least take them slow.
"Are you sure you're-" my voice was cut off by a bang. I looked towards a darkened hallway.
He pushed his chair back and stood. "Excuse me."
I watched as he rushed down the hallway. Then I heard a door open and close hard.
Minutes passed and he hadn’t returned.
I thought about leaving, I felt uncomfortable. It was this weird feeling at first. As if I wasn’t alone. I checked the hallway, the living room, and the balcony.
As I was looking around, I noticed there were no pictures. Anywhere. The apartment, the silence, the emptiness of it all was startling. I hadn’t heard footsteps, or nearby neighbors talking.
Maybe I was scaring myself, but I suddenly felt as if I was being watched. Not from afar, but right across from me, from Johnny’s chair.
A part of me really believed there was someone there. That if I reached a hand out, I’d meet with some invisible force. I was tempted to, just to test out my theory. But I wasn’t insane enough.
I shifted in my chair, ready to run. But before I could leave, Johnny came back flushed. His face was red and wet with sweat. He took his seat across from mine. I had to keep myself from warning him to not sit down, that there was already someone there.
Ignoring my senses, I looked at Johnny and asked, "Are you okay?"
He took a quick glance at me then averted his eyes. "Sure, yeah."
"Look we can pick back up tomorrow if you'd like?"
Johnny nodded his head. "That'd be for the best."
As I stood from my chair, my stomach grumbled. Fuck. The wine, pasta, and cake were not mixing well. I was embarrassed but I knew I wouldn't make it to my apartment.
"Is it okay if I use your bathroom?"
"It's down the hall, to the left."
I hurried down the hall, found the door to my left, and entered. His bathroom was clean and God was I grateful for that. I tried to not take longer in his bathroom than I needed to, but something kept me from wanting to leave. I chalked it up to me being buzzed after so many glasses of wine.
Or maybe it was the incident with the chair. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. As my mind wandered, I heard a faint noise. It was inaudible at first and then, as it grew louder, I realized it was crying, from a baby. It went on for a few seconds and then stopped.
Johnny hadn’t mentioned a child on his profile or in any of our conversations. But at this point, I was tired and creeped out. I wanted to go home.
I got up and washed my hands and face. But as I turned to the door, I heard a bang again. Like a door slamming shut.
I rushed out of the bathroom. A nearby door was wide open. I walked over and peeked inside. It was dark. "Johnny?"
Silence. There was that feeling again. Of someone's eyes being on me. But it was as if they were standing right in front of me. Staring right into my face.
The room light came on.
The room was full of shelves and in the center was a baby crib and rocking chair. I stepped backwards. The shelves were lined with baby dolls. But not the cheap kind you pick up from Walmart. They were the hyper-realistic kind. At least a hundred.
Some of their eyes were wide open, hands reaching up for invisible parents. Others had their eyes closed, hands tucked into their chest.
Rows and rows of them, just completely identical to each other. All of them were clothed. And all of them were male.
From the corner of my eye, I caught nearby closet doors opening slightly. And then I heard a baby crying again. I walked towards the crib and peeked inside. Thinking maybe, just in case, there was a real baby in there.
Instead, there was a doll inside and sitting next to it was a phone, playing a recording of a crying baby.
Out of some weird instinct, I stopped the recording.
The closet doors burst open, crashing against the walls. A woman dressed in a bloody hospital gown rushed out, her clawed hands reaching for me, screaming like a banshee. Her face was raw from scratch marks. "My baby!"
I fell backwards, hitting my head hard on the floor.
The woman turned to the crib and picked up the doll. She looked down and cooed at it. As she picked up her baby, she screamed. “¡Está muerto!.”
She threw the baby hard against the wall and turned to me. “What did you do to my baby?”
The woman moved towards me, tears running down her face, her screams raw.
I hate to admit it, but I fainted at that moment.
The next day, I woke up in my bed. Maybe Johnny had taken me home, or he called one of my roommates to pick me up. Regardless, I was happy to be home… and alive. He had sent a text, just saying “I’m so sorry.” But I didn’t bother replying. I deleted his number, my Tinder and Bumble profiles, and then the apps themselves.
Dating would be off the table for a long, long time.
I’ll admit, I’m not sure if anyone will believe me. I’m still having trouble believing it myself. And just making sense of everything that happened. But I needed to tell someone. Thankfully it's been cathartic for me writing about all of this. It’s strange but it’s helped. The only thing is, I still can’t shake this feeling that I’m being watched.
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