A man’s perspective on dating: When a potential romance turns platonic

“After describing her vibe, the chemistry and our lack of kisses, all my male friends thought I had lost my game. My femme friends thought it was the sweetest, cutest thing they’d ever heard.”

I arrived in Valencia on Friday morning, signed my lease and picked up the keys to my apartment. It was a four-bedroom share house where I’d be living with three others, and we were all international students about to start the new semester. I was the third to arrive, already living there were two 19-year-old Swedish law students.

There wasn’t a single shared interest between us; they hated art, didn’t go to the cinema and couldn’t understand why anyone would ever desire a visit to a museum. After an afternoon with these two, I was depressed and anxious about the following three months of cohabitation together. Something was instantly clear – my extroverted ass needed friends, and fast.

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That night, my first in the new city, I matched with a Hinge cutie. She opened the chat by complimenting my Kiko kicks, the OG aqua and yellow Gel-Kiril’s from the Asics collaboration. I responded by telling her they were designed by graduates from my university back home and she was intrigued.

I’m extremely attracted to people who have their own unique style and aspire for authenticity when dressing themselves. Her profile was exactly that, effortlessly cool and stylish. We made plans to meet the following evening, Saturday night, at a bar someone had recommended. She’d only been living in Valencia for two weeks.

I arrived at the bar first, around 9pm, nervously waiting outside for her to arrive. She was a few minutes late. I spotted her through a crowd walking towards me pushing her bike with one hand and a cigarette in the other. The chemistry was immediately clear; she was hilarious, interesting and self-assured. We stayed at the first bar for an hour and a bit, before deciding we were too hungry and needed to head somewhere with food and outside seating.

We sat in a square across the road from the second bar and ordered food off a cardboard menu, smoking cigarettes in between sips of vermouth on ice. It didn’t take long for us to both feel comfortable, maybe too comfortable, in each other’s presence. We were opening up about family stuff, but not in an oversharing trauma bond way. Our relationships with our parents were strangely similar in many ways. We came from vastly different backgrounds and places yet there were unmistakable resemblances.

It was after midnight and we both felt like dancing, so we walked to a bar someone had mentioned to her as a good place to shake one’s booty, without having to be in an intense club setting. Arriving and getting a drink from the tiny bar, we sat in a booth warming up to the small downstairs dance floor which was radiating pounding techno. If things are going well on a date, and I mean really well, nothing in that moment is hotter than kissing before you go home together, especially if you’re in some random dimly lit bar where you know no one.

Our intense eye contact was a clear in for the first kiss and in a normal date scenario, I would have leaned in and gone for it, but this felt different. It felt like something deeper and more meaningful than just sex: platonic love. A few hours later we were back at my place. The lease I’d signed only the day before clearly stipulated I was forbidden from having ‘evening guests’ but I was feeling naughty and not bound to contractual obligations.

We were on my bed together and it was the second moment of the night when I seriously considered making a move. All the hard work was over, she was in my bed! Here was this sexy as hell, fun, stylish girl, but I felt the pull of something else; the allure of a bestie. Someone to do nothing and everything with, someone to watch TV in pyjamas with and talk about unwanted advances or deeply desired ones. The chemistry wasn’t just good, it was otherworldly, off the charts, in the stratosphere. After outgrowing the four walls of my bedroom, we departed for the beach.

It was 4am by this point. The beach in this town faces east, so it’s a particularly special spot for sunrises over the water. We stopped in a little park by the water and talked one another’s ears off. I wish I remembered the topics we covered sitting on that park bench together, but what I do remember is clenching my stomach, doubling over laughing, slapping my knee, and tears filling my eyes.

This person was capital F funny and not afraid to make fun of herself, be vulnerable and, most importantly, goofy. In retrospect, it was an extremely romantic situation and setting; some random park bench in some random part of town on a hot autumn night. Palm trees overhead, our bodies illuminated by a single light post peaking through between the palms. I wondered if I’d ever gotten to know someone so quickly before in my life.

This was the eighth hour of the date, and neither of us was showing any signs of slowing down. Crossing the road to the wide, sandy beach, the sky was all kinds of blues, pinks and oranges. Finding a cute spot, we sat down, lit up a joint and savoured every moment. It was on the beach that the importance of this person’s presence in my life over the next few months fully dawned on me. It made me feel so special and warm all over, like a kid who gets home late after playing with their bestie all afternoon, falling asleep on the couch with a smile from ear to ear.

We finally called it and walked back to my apartment where she had left her bike. Two brain cells remained between us, no thoughts just vibes. Although I was beyond content with my newfound friend, there was still a horny little snail in my ear telling me to invite her up and make a move. She was stunning after all, and I’m only human.

In the days that followed I would tell friends about that moment in my bed together. After describing her vibe, the chemistry and our lack of kisses, all my male friends thought I had lost my game. My femme friends thought it was the sweetest, cutest thing they’d ever heard. It’s now over six months later and we still speak every day. She’s a true friend. We ended up travelling together briefly, and constantly cock blocked each other – everyone always assumed we were a couple. Little do they know we are so much more than that.

This article was originally published on September 19, 2023.

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