The Date Who I Thought Had Died

Welcome to 29 Dates, where we explore the weird, wild and sometimes wonderful world of dating - one date at a time.
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When we matched online, I was experiencing the death rattle of a seven-year relationship. 
The last time I was single, dating involved falling into people in clubs. Apps felt fun, like window shopping. 
Would I ever feel anything again? Maybe not, but as we WhatsApped back and forth, it all felt a bit soulmatey. Uncanny. Too good to be true? Probably.
My expectations ahead of our first date were low. I arranged a walk, thinking I could leave easily if I wasn’t into it. But I was. 
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Eight hours later we snogged. It was nice. Really nice. I had forgotten how this felt. I almost took him home but decided against it, letting him think it was because I was unsure when really I just wanted a decent night’s sleep.
A week later, we met again. By now – six weeks of texting – there was pressure. Energy crackled between us. Would the sex be bad because everything else was good? 
We walked back to mine and I mentioned the cat my ex had abandoned with me. He was, it transpired, very allergic. Cut to buying Piriteze under the halogen lights of a late-night corner shop and laughing. 
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We had sex. It was good. But then it happened. 
"Can you feel that?" he asked.

His heart was beating so hard... Then, still inside me, he had a full-blown asthma attack.

His heart was beating so hard it almost broke through his chest. I was worried. And then, still inside me, he had a full-blown asthma attack.
He didn’t have an inhaler, he needed to go home. I wanted to go with him. He wanted to be alone. I didn’t want him to leave but, equally, I didn’t want him to die. 
Standing in my bedroom, completely naked with a massive erection and wheezing, he somehow managed to laugh. 
It was 2am. He got an Uber. I passed out. 
I woke up, panicked. I texted. No reply. Was he actually dead? I called. Phone was off. Definitely fucking dead. 
Finally, at 1pm, he messaged. He had been up all night, wheezing and listening to podcasts. 
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He still thought it was funny. Was I okay, he asked? 
No, but I feigned humour. As my phone blew up with asthma jokes, I felt alone in the home I once shared with a man I had planned out the rest of my life with. I faced everything I had lost: stability, certainty. 
I had suddenly met someone who made me feel alive again but, almost as fast, I was forced to confront losing them too.
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