Days passed, and one by one my university friends began to fall in love. Deep inside, I too longed to find someone—to love and be loved. One of my friends once told me a strange superstition: if you count one hundred pregnant women and then turn around, you will meet your destined partner. At first, I doubted it, but for some reason, I decided to try.
And so, I wandered through city streets, neighborhoods, near my school, even along the road home—quietly counting every pregnant woman I saw. It felt foolish, yet somehow, I believed in it. I managed to count forty-seven.
One weekend, a peculiar thought crossed my mind: Why not go to maternity hospitals and finish counting there? So I did. I walked around, counting carefully… until I reached ninety-nine.
Disappointed, I headed home. Just then, from a narrow street near my house, a pregnant woman appeared. My heart leapt with excitement—I counted her as one hundred and turned around…
And do you know who it was?
It was just the neighbor next door, walking with his daughter.
I felt a flash of irritation, but in a way, the whole thing had been amusing.
Around that time, TV chat services were becoming popular—people would send messages and meet strangers through televised platforms. On impulse, I sent a message to TV8's greeting segment:
"A 22-year-old girl looking to meet a clean-cut, handsome young man."
Within five minutes, my phone was flooded with messages and calls. I was too shy to answer any calls, so I replied only to the texts—one by one.
After a week, only one person remained.
We exchanged messages for over five months. His name was Bayarkhuu.
Winter passed, and spring arrived, warming the world outside. One day, he messaged me:
"Let's meet tomorrow."
My heart raced. Thoughts flooded my mind.
What if he doesn't like me? What if he sees me from afar and walks away?
I prepared my clothes, shoes, and bag, but sleep wouldn't come that night.
The next day arrived. After class, we agreed to meet at 4:00 PM in front of the monument by the State Department Store. I stood across the street, searching for him. Suddenly, my phone rang.
"I'm here. Where are you?" he asked.
"I'm here too," I replied.
"What are you wearing?"
"A blue coat, black boots, my hair tied back, and a black bag."
"I can't see you. I'm wearing a yellow jacket."
Because of the bright color, I spotted him immediately.
Oh my… he's so handsome, I thought.
And then, just as quickly, doubt took over. There's no way I could be his type. I should just leave.
So I turned and started walking away.
My phone rang again. I answered and said,
"I don't think I'll be your type anyway. I'm leaving."
Then I hung up.
He kept calling.
Moments later, someone ran up behind me and gently tapped my shoulder.
"Hey, Gerlee… where are you going?"
My heart pounded as I turned around. There he was—smiling, his eyes bright, a strikingly handsome young man standing before me.
"I… I was just leaving…" I stammered.
"Leaving? After five months of talking, we finally meet and you're going to leave?" he said, half laughing. Then he added softly,
"You're a lovely girl. Why would you think I wouldn't like you? I actually like you."
And just like that, we went on our date.
We went to Tengis Cinema and watched "Rashaantyn 18." It was my first time in a movie theater, and everything felt new—and strangely romantic. While I tried to focus on the film, I could feel him looking at me. I pretended not to notice, though inside I was terribly shy.
After the movie, we went to eat on the seventh floor of a glass-walled building. He pulled out a chair for me, treated me with such politeness—it left a deep impression. Compared to my past dates, he felt entirely different. What I liked most was his gentle manners and his warm smile.
When we finished eating, he hailed a taxi to take me home. I felt embarrassed that I lived in a ger district and tried to avoid letting him see, but he insisted on accompanying me all the way.
We stopped in front of my gate. He got out with me and said,
"I really enjoyed today. Did you?"
"Yes," I replied softly.
He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on my lips, then turned to leave.
I stood there, frozen in shock. Just as he was about to get back into the taxi, he opened the door again and said with a smile,
"Goodbye, beautiful. I'll text you."
Then he left.
Thinking back on that blind date, my heart feels as though it was filled with happiness. And yet… there was also a quiet fear lingering within me.
Will he want to see me again? Did he truly like me? Will he leave me like the others did?
With those thoughts swirling endlessly in my mind, I stepped into my home.
It was then that I realized—
my ability to trust others had quietly faded away.