I recently went on a date that took a turn I could never have predicted. I was excited to meet Dorothy, a girl I’d been chatting with for a few days. From our conversations, she seemed like a fun and laid-back person, so I thought it’d be a great chance to connect in person. Little did I know, the date would take an entirely different direction.

We agreed to meet at a nice cafe in town—nothing too fancy, just a chill spot to talk and enjoy a meal. As soon as we sat down, I noticed Dorothy seemed more focused on the menu than on me. I tried to start a conversation, asking her about her day and her interests, but her responses were short and disinterested. She seemed more concerned about whether the place had good food and if she could take some home.

At first, I shrugged it off, thinking maybe she was nervous. But as the minutes passed, it became clear she had no real interest in talking or getting to know me. She was here for one thing—the food. When I asked if everything was okay, she admitted she was having a rough day and didn’t feel like talking. “Let’s just eat and go,” she said.

Now, I’m all for good food, but a date is supposed to be about more than that, right? I was looking for a connection, or at least a decent conversation, but Dorothy wasn’t interested in either. So, I decided to roll with the punches. I casually mentioned that if I was paying for the meal, we might as well spend more time together—maybe even head back to my place after. I wasn’t serious, but I wanted to see how she’d react. Without skipping a beat, she brushed me off, saying, “Could you just let me eat, please?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

As we wrapped up the meal, she asked if she could order something extra to take home. At that point, I figured why not? If this was going to be one of those dates, I might as well let her go all in. She ordered more food, packed it up, and we prepared to leave. I could tell she wasn’t here to connect—just to fill her stomach.

Once we finished, I made up some excuse about needing to leave early. It was clear neither of us was getting what we wanted from this “date.”

Fast forward a few weeks later, I was out in Tema Community 1 running errands in my other car—nothing flashy, but definitely not what she’d expect from our café date. As I parked outside a shop, guess who I ran into? Dorothy. She spotted me immediately, and before I could even say anything, she walked up with a big smile.

“Hey, is that your car?” she asked, with way more interest in her voice than she ever had during our date.

I couldn’t help but smirk. This was the same girl who had barely bothered to make conversation the last time we met. Now, she was all curious, as if suddenly seeing me in a different light.

“Yeah, it is,” I replied casually.

Her tone changed instantly. She started asking how I’d been, acting way more friendly than before. She even suggested we should catch up sometime, and I couldn’t help but laugh internally. It was so obvious she was only interested now because she thought I had something flashy to offer.

“Maybe,” I said, trying to keep things polite but distant.

That same night, I got a text from Dorothy.

“Hey, it was great seeing you today. Maybe we should hang out again? I’d love the chance to make it up to you.”

I smirked at the message. Make it up to me? After that first date, I was hardly interested in round two. So, I texted back, “I’m not really in the mood to take anyone out right now.”

But to my surprise, she replied almost immediately, suggesting something else.

“How about I come over to your place? We could just chill.”

Reluctantly, I agreed. I sent her my address, not really expecting much to come of it. But sure enough, about two hours later, my phone rang.

“I’m at your gate,” she said, her voice surprisingly enthusiastic.

I went outside to meet her and saw she had come in an Uber. Without saying much, I paid off the driver and walked her into the house. As we headed inside, she looked around, clearly impressed.

“You know, you look so simple, but it’s obvious you’re doing well,” she said, her eyes scanning the living room.

I laughed it off. “It’s not that deep, but thanks.”

Inside, the AC was on full blast, making the room refreshingly cold, a perfect escape from the heat outside. We made our way to the couch, and I offered her some pizza I had left in the fridge. We grabbed some slices, opened up some fruit juice, and settled in front of the TV to watch Netflix.

As we started watching a movie, the atmosphere was surprisingly comfortable. Dorothy seemed more relaxed than she had during our first encounter, and for the first time, we actually exchanged more than just a few words. It was casual, easygoing, and there was none of the tension from before.

But then, she leaned in a little closer, rubbing her arms as if she were freezing. “I’m feeling cold,” she said, her voice soft as she shifted even closer. Without saying a word, she gently pulled my hand around her waist, guiding my arm around her. My hand naturally rested on her chest, her soft skin brushing against me.

The air shifted, and things suddenly felt more intimate. She didn’t pull away, and neither did I. Instead, she nestled into me, her body pressed closer as we sat there, the movie playing in the background, almost forgotten.

Her perfume filled the air, sweet and subtle, and I couldn’t help but notice how different she seemed compared to that first date. There was no awkwardness, no rush for anything—it was like we had silently agreed to just go with the flow.

For a while, we sat in that comfortable silence, wrapped up in each other as the movie played on. Occasionally, we exchanged soft whispers and jokes about the scenes on the screen, but the tension between us was palpable. The warmth of the moment contrasted the cool air in the room.

I could feel her breath quicken slightly as she leaned in even closer, her body now fully resting against mine. There was an unspoken understanding between us—neither of us felt the need to say anything about what was happening, but the night was unfolding in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

As the night went on, we stayed in that position, talking more openly about life, our pasts, and the things we usually kept guarded. It felt like, for the first time, we were actually getting to know each other. Maybe the change of setting, or maybe she had let her guard down. Either way, the night took on a different vibe than I had expected.

But still, in the back of my mind, I couldn’t forget how things had started between us—a transactional first date where she barely spoke, and now here we were, wrapped in each other’s arms like we’d known each other for years. Life has a funny way of turning things around.

It wasn’t long before one thing led to another, and the night took a more intimate turn. We made love.

Afterward, there was a strange silence between us. She got dressed and left without much fuss. It felt like we had reached some unspoken agreement to just leave things as they were. But later, she texted me, thanking me for the night, hoping to see me again. I didn’t reply. I wasn’t interested anymore, not after everything that had happened. The next day, she called several times, but I didn’t pick up.

A few days passed, and then I heard from a friend that Dorothy was out there telling her version of the story to anyone who would listen. According to her, I had invited her out, refused to eat, and then made inappropriate suggestions about going back to my place. She even claimed I had tried to make her pay for everything.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

She was now telling people that, despite everything, she had tried to give me a second chance. She claimed I lured her into spending the night with me and then ghosted her after I “had my way.” To make things even more dramatic, Dorothy had reportedly told mutual friends that she was planning to curse me and my entire generation for “using” her.

The whole situation was ridiculous. I had no idea how things had escalated to this level, but clearly, she was trying to save face by making me the villain. It wasn’t just about the night we spent together anymore—Dorothy was now turning this into a full-blown scandal.

I couldn’t help but laugh when my friend told me about the curse threat. It was so absurd, it almost didn’t seem real. But one thing was clear: Dorothy was not someone I wanted to cross paths with again.