First Date

"Thank you for dinner." I smiled. He was different from other men I'd encountered in my travels to Africa. Perhaps it was his work at the Danish embassy – greater exposure to Western culture, easier relatability. Or it might've been because he championed me from the first moment he met me, chiding our friend for being "too lazy to speak English" while she was hosting me.

"You are welcome." Nervousness surrounded him the way women had surrounded the mango stands in the market earlier. "I need to tell you something."

Please don't say it. I'd been the muzungo – white person, foreigner – enough times before to know what came next.

"I love you." There it was.

"No you don't." We'd only known each other five days. "But I'm willing to see where this goes." He nodded, and offered me his hand to escort me home for the first time.