Anybody know if there is an award given to the person who makes the worst movie date choices ever? If so, I’d like to nominate myself for contention.
Considering it was the first date, I really had no business asking the young woman over to my place to watch a movie in the first place. Talk about unoriginal.
But what can I say? I was only 20, making intern money and it was Detroit where I just moved to live for the summer. I knew like three people and knew nowhere to go so a movie at my place was really the best I could offer.
Luckily, she understood all these things so she said yes. I told her all she had to do was show up, I’d handle the rest. I was going to make a great dinner and pick a classic film that I just knew she would love.
Dinner went as planned.
As for the movie? Well, let’s just say, short of something from the Bang Bros series, this was probably the worst movie someone could ever choose on a first date. To this day, I smack myself on the forehead when I think of my selection. Not just because of the movie I selected but because I actually thought the movie I selected was the right movie; like whatever a movie is supposed to do to enhance a date, this was going to do it. She’s gonna love this one I thought.
Well, as it turns out, she…Well, here, the movie poster, a clip, and then below, her reaction to the worst first date movie ever.
I don’t like to ponder much about the future so much as I like to prepare for whatever it may bring. But sometimes my mind goes there and I smile at the thought of having a family of my own one day. If I’m fortunate enough to have children, I imagine there will be a bunch of things I will tell them about the life I lived before they arrived and the lessons I learned from it.
At times, my daydreams get super specific and I imagine I have a son who comes home from school one day all bent out of shape. You see, there’s a girl he really likes but she doesn’t feel the same way. At this age, he’s far too young to understand the concept of “more fish in the sea”. He hasn’t been around enough girls to know there are so many more he will meet, and of those many, some will like him back and some will like him before he even likes them.
So I will spare him the lecture, because there’s little chance a new girl for him to crush on will walk through his classroom door the next day. Besides all he cares about is the girl he likes. At that moment in his life, she is the one, and not having her is killing him, and since I know what that feels like I will tell him to take it from his old man, that girl, one day, she will be his. Maybe not forever, but one day, she will see in him what he sees in her. I’m sure when I say this to him, he will ask me how I know, and I’ll tell him the story.
My girlfriend at the time and I took a seat at the bar of a restaurant while waiting for a table to have dinner. When we took our seats, the bartender, a pretty woman who was wearing a spaghetti strapped shirt, jeans, and big hair walked over to us. She laid down two bar napkins in front of us, turned to me and asked me first what I would like to drink.
I thought it was a mistake. In all my years working in restaurants throughout high school and college, one of the paramount rules was women always order first, matter of fact, everything concerning the service requires the woman goes first. This was even more true in fine dining establishments similar to the one where my ex-girlfriend and I were having dinner. I turned to my ex and asked her what she wanted. My ex looked at the bartender and with a slight hint of attitude ordered a mojito. I placed my order and when the bartender went to make our drinks, I asked my ex if everything was okay. She insisted it was but I could tell her woman’s intuition was picking up on something I wasn’t.
Today’s story feels longer than usual so if you’d like, print it out and take it with you when you have some time to read it in its entirety. Or not. Doesn’t matter. Just a suggestion. Enjoy!
I hope I don’t get arrested for telling this story. Here goes nothing….
First, some context regarding our relationship.
She was not my girlfriend, but not because I didn’t want her to be and not because she didn’t want to be my girlfriend. The two of us just had complicated lives. When we met, we lived in the same city, but as our luck would have it, her career would take her to D.C., and neither of us saw long distance as an option. So instead, we agreed to keep things open at a distance, but when work put us in the same city or one of us wanted to visit the other, we became each others priority.
The arrangement worked out nicely. We even managed to be open about the other people we were seeing. I was tolerant of her dating stories and she, tolerant of mine. Long as we remained respectful, didn’t reveal any cringe-inducing details, and were honest if feelings for another intensified, we remained in a good place. We respected each other, and trusted each other, so much so, we even let each other stay at our apartments if we were out of town. One time I went to D.C. at the same time she had to be in New York, so I left with her my keys to my place, and she left with me, her keys.
This relationship was, in a word, ideal. Until she revealed to me a story that made our relationship weird.
Because, I don’t really have too many thoughts on Valentine’s Day as a Hallmark Holiday. When you’re in a relationship it’s cool and when you’re not it can suck. Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me, so I’ll spare anyone my complete thoughts on the day. Instead, a story of what I can remember was an unexpectedly good Valentine’s Day.
I suppose I should start by saying everything about this story is true. Jermaine knew about it, because he was the first person I called when it happened. My mom never knew until I told her two nights ago, years after the fact. I couldn’t write this before I shared it with her, but it wasn’t as though I was asking her permission or seeking her approval. What’s done was done. I just wanted to share it with her before I shared it here, out of respect for our relationship.
The other thing I should say is, no matter what your views are on abortion — whether your pro choice or pro life — I share this not to advocate for either side of the issue. Today’s post isn’t motivated by an article I read or some story in the news or something I watched on TV. As a matter of fact, I don’t even know why I’m writing about this other than to write about my life without shame like I always do.
And most importantly, this post is not to pit a man’s experience against a woman’s experience, to say one is more deep than the other. Frankly, I don’t think there’s much of a contest between the two. I have no idea what it’s like to be the woman in this situation, not mentally, not physically. All I know is what it feels like for me, a man.
Last week, it was just a silly dream I had. The mere fact that I was dreaming about you was silly when one considers I haven’t seen you since the season’s have changed, twice.
As for the dream itself, well, it wasn’t very detailed. There wasn’t a lot to it at all.
To this day, I don’t know if any girl with whom I was in a relationship, cheated on me. It’s never been revealed to me and I’ve never pressed the issue. But in my last relationship, I saw myself about to get cheated on with my own eyes, and it was everything I needed to know our relationship was forever broken. Something about my unwillingness to stop it from happening made me realize I just wasn’t in it for the long haul anymore. Read more…
In his lifetime, every man meets a girl or two he has no business falling for and when he does, he has two choices. The first is to give it a shot anyway and see if the rewards outweigh the risks. The second is to not take the risk at all, and continue on in life with a clear head.
The older I get, the more I prefer the latter, but the former stays tugging at me like some sort of addiction. I have definitely fallen for a girl I shouldn’t fall for, on several occasions, but this is the cautionary true story of one.