The Weirdest Thing I’ve Ever Done for a Story
The Setup: When Curiosity Gets the Best of You
Picture this: a relatively quiet afternoon in northeast D.C. The kind where the air smells faintly of simmering oxtail and humid summer pavement. I was half-listening to my mom’s third warning about “finding a good girl who can make proper rice and peas” and half-scrolling through emails when one stood out like a beacon.
“Experimental Pop-Up Event: What Happens When You Fall in Love Without Seeing Each Other First?”
The concept was as absurd as it was intriguing. Attendees would meet in a pitch-black room, paired with a stranger, and spend the evening navigating conversation, food, even awkward icebreakers—all without ever laying eyes on one another. The room would stay dark the entire time, promising “pure connection.” Naturally, my editor thought it was gold.
I wasn’t so sure. I mean, I liked to think of myself as adventurous, but there’s something about meeting someone in total darkness that feels a little...serial-killer-adjacent. Still, I was on a “say yes to new experiences” kind of kick (blame Beyoncé’s Homecoming documentary for that one), so I emailed back my RSVP before I could chicken out.
Setting the Scene: A Blind Date, Literally
Showing up at the venue felt a bit like stepping into a very niche heist movie. The staff confiscated phones, watches—anything that emitted light. “No cheating,” one of them said cheerfully, which, in retrospect, seemed ominous.
As they led us into the darkened space, I was struck by how complete the blackness was. I hadn’t anticipated how disorienting it would feel to suddenly rely on senses I usually ignored. Sound. Smell. Texture. It was sensory overload in reverse.
And then, through the void, I heard her voice.
“So…what brings you here? Bet it’s not to practice your spelunking skills, is it?”
It was warm, laced with the kind of humor people use to mask their own nerves. “Guilty,” I said, laughing. “I’m here for a story. But you? You sound way too calm for all this.”
She laughed, and it felt like the room tilted just a little.
The Conversations We Don’t Have in the Light
Here’s the thing about pitch darkness: you’re forced to listen. Like, really listen. There’s no visual shorthand to rely on—no stolen glances, no subtle eyebrow raises, no judgment of outfits or body language. The usual first-date checklist (cute? confident? cologne game on point?) went straight out the window.
Instead, we talked. Not about where we worked or went to school, but real stuff. Dreams. Fears. She shared how she’d recently started therapy, half-joking that she was “learning how to yell at people nicely.” I confessed my habit of avoiding vulnerability like it was some Olympic sport I was trying to medal in.
The vulnerability was palpable, raw even. And maybe that’s the benefit of anonymity—you’re freer to admit things you’d never say with the lights on. By dessert (which, by the way, was some kind of sticky pudding that tasted amazing but felt like trying to spoon-feed a toddler), I was genuinely invested in this person I couldn’t even picture.
The Twist: A Not-So-Grand Reveal
Now, you’re probably thinking, “Okay, but what happened when the lights came back on?” Let me set the record straight: there was no dramatic unmasking moment. No Love is Blind-style reunion with gasps or tears. The event ended with coffee in a softly lit lounge area, where people were allowed to find their partners—if they wanted to.
I scanned the room, half-expecting her to have vanished like some rom-com fever dream. But there she was, perched on the edge of a blue armchair.
My first thought? She looks different than I imagined. Not worse. Not better. Just different. It’s funny how your brain creates its own image when left to its own devices.
We chatted briefly, but the magic of the dark felt...gone. Out there, under fluorescent lighting, we were just two strangers who’d shared an oddly intimate experience. We exchanged numbers, but I could tell neither of us really planned to follow up. The moment had done its job, and sometimes, that’s enough.
Why It Worked (and Why It Didn’t)
Here’s the takeaway: the experience was oddly freeing. No distractions. No preconceived notions. Just two people trying to connect without the usual checklist of What Makes Someone Dateable.
But here’s the rub: connection in the dark is easier because it’s contained. It doesn’t account for the mess, the laughter, the awkward side-eye that happens in the real world. Relationships are about context, and context requires light.
Still, I walked away from the experience with a newfound appreciation for listening—for being present without a thousand other distractions pulling at your attention.
What I Learned (So You Don’t Have To Do This Yourself)
-
Ditch the Script
Dates often feel like interviews with a side of anxiety. Instead of worrying about hitting all the “right” topics, lean into the weird. Ask about the playlist they’d choose for a road trip or the last dream they remember. Let your curiosity lead instead of your checklist. -
Rely on More Than Your Eyes
We’re visual creatures, sure, but attraction is more complex than aesthetics. Notice how someone makes you feel. That’s what sticks. -
Be Comfortable with Awkwardness
Conversations in total darkness? Awkward. Navigating life in the light? Also awkward. Embrace it—it’s where the good stuff lives.
Closing Time
Do I recommend meeting someone in a room that feels like the inside of a shoebox? Not necessarily. But I can’t deny it taught me something: sometimes we look too hard for what’s right in front of us—or just around the corner, hidden by fear, assumptions, or bad ten-dollar lighting at your local dive bar.
Take a moment to step into the unknown. You might not find the love of your life, but you might just find yourself a little closer to who you really are. And honestly? That’s a story worth chasing.
