We Know It’s Not Just Dinner
Week two
As an aficionado of English romantic films, I’m aware that there are certain steps a man must take to acquaint himself with a lady he is pursuing. Among the options I considered was dinner. For three days, I pondered how I might engage her in conversation after class, without the likelihood of others interrupting us. Sitting beside her during lectures was impractical; I would be too distracted to pay attention, which was, after all, the main reason for my presence in South Africa. Perhaps dinner would suffice, I mused. What should I do? Should I inquire if she would be interested in joining me for dinner this evening? But then again, who ‘dines’ a dinner? It’s merely dinner, after all.
She had arrived from Mozambique with two other ladies, whom she was constantly with on the bus, during lunch, and in various activities. On the first week, one of the ladies was unwell and attended the classes online from the hotel. They would connect her via Zoom, and since I sat at the front, I would sometimes carry her (the laptop) around when she couldn’t hear well, to ensure the microphone was close to the speakers. I first met one of the ladies, Julia, when we were paired to discuss a concept called the “Empathy Map”. Someone needed to converse with the lady on the laptop, and since I was nearby, I volunteered. We had a fruitful discussion, though I’m uncertain of her impression of me. That’s how I became acquainted with Julia, a close friend of Vanessa’s.
It was easy to converse with Julia. While in class, I thought it might be simpler to gain access to Vanessa if I could win over her friends. It’s simple logic, really — just earn the trust of the entire company. I went to my laptop and searched for an English to Portuguese translation. The first prompt was “translate… what are you guys doing after class?” I wrote the translation on a sticky note and passed it to Julia. She responded in Portuguese on the same note, saying, “We will freshen up and go to the mall for dinner.” I typed back, “Is it safe if I offer you guys dinner, you, Vanessa, and your third friend, Denis?” The idea was that if they were a group, it might not be difficult for her to join her friends if they agreed to let me provide dinner. Now, I’m not sure if I phrased my question correctly, “Is it safe to get you guys dinner?” Perhaps I should have simply offered to get them dinner without causing her to overthink. But it is what it is. I handed her the note, and she replied with considerable doubt, “Hmm, I’m not sure, I don’t think it’s safe.” At this point, she probably knew I had intentions towards Vanessa. They’re girls; they must talk, and she does observe me. She might have noticed my advances. Being the eldest, I thought approaching her might be the best strategy, though it didn’t work out.
Now, we’re on our way back to the hotel from UNISA SBL. Denis is seated next to Julia, and Vanessa is diagonally opposite them, in front of me. Had Julia already informed them of my stance? Or are they discussing it now? Since they converse in Portuguese, they might be talking about it. How embarrassing. Thoughts crowded my mind. I tried to catch their gaze to see if they were looking at me, which might, at the very least, hint that I was the topic of discussion. But anyway, let me don my headphones. I enjoy music, so I had recently purchased a pair of Soundcore Space One headphones with noise-cancelling features, allowing me to retreat into my own world whenever I wish. There I sat, relaxed, yet now contemplating the Julia’s words. It’s not possible, she said. What should I do? Should I simply let it go and mind my own business? I’m not sure. Anyway, we arrived at the hotel, and following the ‘bro code’, I confided in my new friend, Jose, about the situation, hoping he might offer some advice.
As I traversed the corridor toward my room, I pondered whether Julia had already divulged our conversation to Vanessa and her companions. The uncertainty hung in the air, yet I resolved to make one last attempt. Upon reaching my room, I opened WhatsApp, navigated to Vanessa’s chat, and composed a straightforward query: “May I have the pleasure of treating you to dinner?” The message remained unanswered, leaving me in a state of suspense. Sent at precisely 17:23, it joined the ranks of two other messages — one responding to her previous inquiry and the other, the pivotal dinner invitation.
Vanessa’s eventual response arrived at 20:35, though it veered away from the topic of dinner. Instead, she addressed our earlier discussion about pitching. I had inquired whether she would join us for pitching practice, as agreed upon during our class with fellow leaders. Curiously, I resurrected the dormant dinner message, seeking clarity: “Why did you not respond?” I asked. “It was not appropriate?” she replied. Her reply that followed that the previous one, though understandable, lacked warmth: “I do not wish to foster false hope for something that will never materialize.” The impact of those words reverberated within me — an unexpected blow to my aspirations. “Something that will never happen” — the phrase echoed like a mournful refrain. Vanessa was smart; she discerned my interest, my desire for more than mere acquaintance. In this emotional crossroads, what was a man to do? Delete the chat, focus on self-improvement, seek solace in sleep, or perhaps muster the courage to try again?
I replied: “Though it is merely dinner, I hear your perspective.” I was trying to be gracious. To give her a way to let it go without either of us having to name it. But Vanessa was not interested in being let off. She wrote back four words: “We know it’s not just dinner.”
I sat with that for a while. She had named the thing. I had been careful for weeks not to name it directly — the charger, the WhatsApp messages, the sticky note in Portuguese, the dinner invitation framed as a group outing — and in one short sentence she had looked at all of it and said: I see what this is. I have seen it for a while.
There is a version of this where that message ends everything. Where I close the chat, feel humiliated, and spend the rest of the programme keeping a professional distance. But that is not what happened. What happened is that I kept showing up. And so did she. I do not fully understand that either.
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