If I go visit Dan, I usually leave by 10:30. 11pm tops. Past that, I’m so tired I can barely see and then Dan has to take me home, because I can barely trust my driving when I’m awake, who knows what’ll happen if I’m half asleep?!

But tonight, we had a “serious talk” that lasted until midnight. I mustered up all my strength to prepare myself for the long 20 minute drive (yes I am being sarcastic), but Dan spared me by offering to drive me home (thank you!).

As we drove up the hill, I noticed something strange–all the lights in the house were on! “This is strange,” I remarked to Dan. He nodded.

I imagined different scenarios as I climbed the stairs. Something had to be wrong; my landlady is extremely eco-conscious, she would NEVER leave all the lights on if she wasn’t using them, let alone if she were sleeping! And what time is it, oh my goodness, 12:20am, and she is usually in bed by 10:30pm! It must be someone who knows her well and is torturing her by leaving all the lights on! And so on and so forth.

I was startled when her head popped up from the window. Did I imagine it, or was her hair disheveled? And where were her glasses? I half waved, half smiled, but man was I confused until I opened the door.

“Hi Mini,” (yes, this is how she says and spells my name), “this is my friend _.” (No, I am not protecting his identity, I really didn’t catch his name; she was so flustered. Wait she fixed her hair. And her glasses were back on.)

I am really bad at guessing ages. Really, really bad. So here goes. My landlady has to be around my mother’s age, maybe younger, so late 40’s, early 50’s. This man, this balding, old, TALL, white man, looked much older, maybe mid-60’s.

Then, an extremely awkward and painful conversation ensued, in which they informed me of their intention to vacation to Yellowstone together in the summer, but I will spare you the details, except that at the end; he trailed off and began to mutter nonsense until I said with finality, “Well good night,” at which he perked up again and replied enthusiastically, “It was VERY nice to meet you!”

A date. It was a date. My landlady was on a date. I could scarcely believe it: my quiet (relatively), quaint, eco-loving, OCD Asian landlady was on a date, breaking one of her own rules: “No loud noise after 9:30pm”. Well I guess they weren’t loud, but I could hear them quite clearly from my room. And with her ears, yes, it constituted as “loud noise”. (Again, I am being sarcastic, please bear with me.)

When I entered my room and closed the door, I didn’t know whether or not I should laugh. It wasn’t that I found their relationship laughable, but it was just so darn cute: my little landlady and her EXTREMELY tall boyfriend. Talking about Yellowstone and sipping tea and eating cookies. It was all very quaint.

The best part was the look on their faces when they saw me. As if I was an older person they respected, who walked in on an intimate moment. The mixture of quiet panic and embarrassment. It made me want to sigh, “Ahhh young love,” except it was more like, “Ahhh old(er) people love.”

All relationships are the same. (I should probably qualify this, but it is nearly 2am and I am about to pass out and did you know that this man just left 30 minutes ago! Talk about having no curfew!)

My quiet times can’t wait until tomorrow either.

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