Oh, Veronica. She claimed the moon was hollow. First I thought she was kidding but the serious look in her eyes and the passionate way she defended the idea told otherwise. The moon was once filled with water, but then it somehow sprung a leak and all the water ended up on earth.
Her insistence was a total turn-off. It should have been obvious, I’d seen on her profile that she liked kundalini yoga and ambient music. I should have swiped her away immediately. Here we were, only at the starter. I should have got up and said it was a mistake. But her turquoise pencil dress and the warm glow of candlelight on her face made her irresistible. I didn’t dare tell her she was talking nonsense and that she needed to learn to use her brain. Nor that I had been celibate for two months and wanted to sleep with her.
I nodded in feigned interested and said there was so much we don’t yet know about the universe, and that our brains are too small to grasp the great mysteries of life. I wrestled my way through to the dessert, paid the bill and asked her if she’d like to come home with me. She politely declined my offer, saying she really liked me but hadn’t felt a click. I said I liked her a lot too, and it was a pity there was no click, but I was sure she would meet her prince charming one day.
I felt miserable when I got home, jerked off and felt even more miserable.
Through the window, I could see the full moon. I fetched my binoculars and studied the craters.
Oh, beautiful, hollow Veronica.
© Joris Vermassen