No Lights With You (With You #1)

Prologue

OLIVIA’S POV

M y almost holistic best friend once told me to ask whatever I want from the universe, and the universe will grant it to me. Manifest was her exact word. Manifest it to the universe , she said. So, I manifested sex. Sex with a fine man, a fine and decent man. Sex with a fine, decent , and feral man . But I’m oblivious to the way the universe works. Am I supposed to do a special dance? Light a candle?

Tatiana, my best friend, told me that I also needed to search, to work my way into getting what I want. I thought the universe was supposed to be almighty or something. I, once again, decide to follow Tatiana’s advice and search. And that search brings me right here, to this very moment. Because who knows? Maybe my fine, decent, and feral man is just one click away.

I finish the last details of my online dating profile, hesitating before accepting all changes and making it public. To enter this virtual community, I had to sign up for a waitlist, send a photo, and basic personal information to their ‘office’ to verify my identity. It felt intrusive to me, but they guaranteed that they wouldn’t share any of my information. Their success lays in discretion, so I choose to trust them.

I don’t feel exposed, because there’s no way of setting a profile photo. The whole point of this site is to make a first connection that goes beyond beauty standards. I don’t mind it. I even find it interesting. It took me a while to sign up as a year subscription is 160€—they do offer a fourteen-day free trial after your entry is approved. So yeah, those fourteen days better be worth my time, as I refuse to pay 160€ on a dating app—sorry, community . They call it community .

I take a deep inhale and press accept , satisfied as I tried to make my description as appealing as possible.

Hello, I’m Olivia J. I’m thirty-years-old and I’m a business owner living in Amsterdam. In my free time, I read mostly poetry. I’m also very creative in writing bio descriptions, as you can tell.

Okay, I know it’s rubbish. But this is not LinkedIn. Before writing my own bio, I checked a few profiles earlier for research purposes —and some people are almost copying and pasting their resumé . Why ? Is this a thing? Shall I write about my Erasmus internship in France? No, no. Keep it simple.

I look at the screen for two solid minutes, considering if signing up was a good idea. I set a reminder on my phone to unsubscribe in thirteen days to avoid any surprises on my bank account.

I’m scrolling through different usernames and clicking on the bios on a couple of them, until I get a pop-up message from a Matt T. Ok, that was fast.

Matt T: Hello, Olivia.

Me: Hello, Matt.

Matt T: Looking for some fun?

Am I looking for fun? I take a couple of seconds before replying to Matt T., who I now imagine is in his early twenties. Flashbacks of university hookups rush to my mind with only that mere sentence. I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, and continue with our chat.

Me: I don’t know, what kind of fun?

He starts typing back almost immediately.

Matt T: A twenty centimetres kind of fun.

A twenty centimetres kind of f— is he serious? No, nope, I don’t think I’m looking for that kind of fun, Matt T. I mean I am, but not like this.

I stare at the screen blankly, searching for a possible typo without responding, when he sends another message. Is that a cock ? It is a cock! IT IS HIS COCK. What in the actual fuck, did he seriously pay 160€ to send photos of his cock to strangers? This is a hard— very hard no.

No pun intended.

Matt T: So, what do you think?

What do I think ? I think that my hymen just grew back. Nope, not happening. I don’t reply and go into his profile to block him, but there’s a comment section available. More than one hundred comments. I can’t avoid rolling my eyes.

Amanda N.

Matt T is the funniest, I love him to bits.

Luna P.

A man full of surprises, charming!

Annie D.

If you want fun in your life, you need Matt in your life.

You dirty bitches. I know your secret, and no. I’ll pass. I block Mr. Syphilis in a heartbeat. That was an interesting start in online dating. Is it going to be like this every time?

It’s day four of online dating, and I have already seen a whole portfolio of surprise cock pictures from different ethnicities, sizes, and shapes. Yes, shapes —all sorts of them. I’ve also been invited to go to Dubai with a businessman named Mohammed M. I left that conversation on hold as I don’t know what I’m doing this summer, but Dubai sounds like fun.

Indeed, it is crazy. I don’t think I’ll go through all fourteen days of my free trial, as I am one cock photo away from becoming a criticist.

I’m ready to log off and go to sleep when I get a pop-up message from a Nathan M.

Nathan M: Hello, you.

Without replying I go into his profile first, his description is simple.

Nathan M. Thirty-seven-years-old. Single. No children. Executive. London-Amsterdam-Munich-Paris.

There’s no comment section, only his name and this brief description. It’s fine, how bad can it be, right? Maybe I’ll get a vacation in London after coming from my summer in Dubai.

Me: Hello, Nathan, how are you?

Nathan: Good, yourself? Are you having fun?

Oh no.

Me: Please, don’t send me a picture of your cock.

Nathan M: What? No. Why would I?

Me: It seems to be the trend around here, and it usually begins with the word ‘fun’ in the conversation.

Nathan: Oh wow, I was only asking because your profile is new. But you say you’ve been getting many cock pics, huh?

Me: That’s correct, in all variations.

Nathan M: And you still haven’t deleted your account. Hmm, I have to say that I think you are enjoying this, Olivia.

Me: What, getting cock pics?

Nathan M: Sure.

Me: Not at all.

Nathan M: Then deactivate your account.

I begin to type, but I realize I don’t know what to say.

Nathan M: Unless you’re waiting for mine. Is that it, Olivia? You’re waiting for a pic of my cock?

I snort, this guy is…ridiculous.

As I’m typing what I’m sure is my last message to this Nathan M, I see that he sends a photo—a cock, but an actual cock! He’s playing fun, sending a picture of a rooster. I like this humorous Nathan M.

Nathan M: His name is Nike because Lecoq sounded redundant. So, what do you think? You like that, don’t you?

You mean the fact that you have a sense of humour? Yes, Nathan M., I like that.

Ok, I guess I might stick around for the remaining time of my free trial, and who knows, maybe even longer.