I had sent Lydia the first message, asking to read the gay Harry Potter fanfic she had mentioned in her profile. It would be my first-ever date with a woman, made approximately 10 days after I came out to friends as “not straight, but I’ll get back to you on exactly how much” at the age of 28.
Our first date was for drinks on a Monday night after a workday I had spent trying not to throw up from anxiety. Lydia and I met thanks to a quiz, the multiple-choice OkCupid personality assessment, which asks for your thoughts on matters like “Would a nuclear Holocaust be exciting?” (that’s a “no” from me) and then matches you with those you’re least likely to hate.
