pop pop pop
By date 3, I was really starting to like N, and he was still asking me to hang out. And yet, “I’m really intimidated by him,” I told a friend.
“Why?” he asked me.
“I mean, he’s so beautiful. And I’m so… grungy.”
“You’re not grungy!” he insisted. “If he finds you attractive, don’t take that away from him. Don't deny him his attraction, and don't deny yourself yours.”
Difficult advice to take. The more I like him, the higher the stakes.
“I find people’s flaws fascinating,” the friend told me. “More interesting than the normal stuff.”
This is a stance I used to take. I used to love dating for this very reason. A date is such an intimate and brief view into someone’s inner world. There is a level of vulnerability that you can draw from them - it’s a neat way to really meet a person.
--
The week after Date 2 was Thanksgiving, and he flew home to be with family. We texted sporadically through the vacation, with plans to meet up on Sunday. He told me when his offer on a house was accepted that Wednesday. He sent me a video of his family at Thanksgiving on Thursday. Friday I tried to wrangle him into a day-trip to the beach. Saturday we settled on a movie instead.
--
On Sunday afternoon I parked at his house and we drove to dinner before the movie. My recommendation was closed, so we drove past it and into the inner eastside for ramen. He ordered pork belly, I ordered the veggie option.
“Do you eat popcorn?” he asked me.
“Yes. Of course.” I like popcorn a lot. No, I freaking love popcorn. Popcorn is the best reason to go to a theater.
“Good. I have so many friends who go to the movies and don’t get popcorn. It’s the best part of going to a theater!” he read my mind.
“Oh, I know! I always ask who is going to eat it with me, and then I get the biggest size because I want there to be enough. But they have one bite and they’re done. That’s not eating popcorn!”
“But having too much is better than having too little.”
“True.”
“But here’s the real question - what do you put on your popcorn?”
“Nutritional yeast?” I said, sheepishly.
“Yes! That’s the best way! Do you make it at home?”
“Yes.”
“On the stove?”
“Of course, that’s the best way!”
“Ugh, yes.” He paused, caught up in feeling. “Sorry, I’m a little passionate about popcorn.”
“No, I am too. Sometimes I won’t be hungry for anything else and I’ll just make it instead of a meal.”
“Haha same. That was actually a point of contention with my college girlfriend,” he confessed. “I would just sit with a bowl of popcorn in my lap, eating it and getting it all over my front.” He gestured across his chest to indicate the extent of the havoc.
--
We made our way out of the ramen place and back over to Hollywood. He circled, looking for a good parking space.
He paid for the tickets and I paid for beer and popcorn - the largest size, with butter. We were early, so we sat and people-watched.
“Do you eat popcorn?” he asked me.
“Yes. Of course.” I like popcorn a lot. No, I freaking love popcorn. Popcorn is the best reason to go to a theater.
“Good. I have so many friends who go to the movies and don’t get popcorn. It’s the best part of going to a theater!” he read my mind.
“Oh, I know! I always ask who is going to eat it with me, and then I get the biggest size because I want there to be enough. But they have one bite and they’re done. That’s not eating popcorn!”
“But having too much is better than having too little.”
“True.”
“But here’s the real question - what do you put on your popcorn?”
“Nutritional yeast?” I said, sheepishly.
“Yes! That’s the best way! Do you make it at home?”
“Yes.”
“On the stove?”
“Of course, that’s the best way!”
“Ugh, yes.” He paused, caught up in feeling. “Sorry, I’m a little passionate about popcorn.”
“No, I am too. Sometimes I won’t be hungry for anything else and I’ll just make it instead of a meal.”
“Haha same. That was actually a point of contention with my college girlfriend,” he confessed. “I would just sit with a bowl of popcorn in my lap, eating it and getting it all over my front.” He gestured across his chest to indicate the extent of the havoc.
--
We made our way out of the ramen place and back over to Hollywood. He circled, looking for a good parking space.
He paid for the tickets and I paid for beer and popcorn - the largest size, with butter. We were early, so we sat and people-watched.
“What is your favorite junk food?” He asked me.
“Um.” I said. This is dangerous territory. Portland is super granola, but I love sugar and salt. Plus, I’ve seen his body; he’s super fit. But I decided to be honest. “Kind of everything.” I admitted. “I love Cheetos? Anything cheese-flavored, really.”
“I’m a sucker for those Hostess donuts,” he said, staring into the distance wistfully.
“Oh man, those are really good. Okay - sometimes I will just cut a big chunk of cheese and eat it.”
“Yeah, but that’s like acceptable,” he said.
“Is it?” I laughed.
The doors to the theater opened and we huddled in line with the other people who were waiting. Midway through the movie he set the popcorn on the floor and picked up my hand.
--
That evening I grilled him on details of the house. When will it close? What is he going to do first? What furniture does he need to buy? He will likely close at the beginning of January, he wants to replace the bathroom floor. He likes most of the furniture from West Elm, but wants to take his time on the purchases. He would rather have no dining room table than one he doesn’t really love. We agree that grey is the best choice for wall color.
--
“When do I get to see you again?” I asked as I walked backward down the hallway of his apartment toward the door.
“Oh,” he started, “Well, I’m really busy next week.”
“Ah okay.” I said. “Just let me know.” Cool girl.
And you had better believe that I dwelled on that moment above all the others in the following days.
--
There is something weird that happens in the process of writing about every date. I spend hours reliving and discussing each conversation. I’m not sure to what extent this over-analysis is affecting my perception of the events. I think I am spending more time in each of these moments than he is.
--
“The next time you’re intimidated by him, just imagine him in his sweatpants with nutritional yeast all down his front.” April counseled me.
“Um yeah, but I’m sure when he says he has it all over him, it’s actually like three little flakes of nutritional yeast.” I countered. “I saw him in his sweatpants. He made this comment like ‘I’m in full lounge mode today,’ but they were super nice! I was like, ‘Yeah, you look super dumpy.’”
“Did you actually say that?”
“Of course not, he looked great.”
Dating Soundtrack this week:
The Smiths, How Soon is Now
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
“Um.” I said. This is dangerous territory. Portland is super granola, but I love sugar and salt. Plus, I’ve seen his body; he’s super fit. But I decided to be honest. “Kind of everything.” I admitted. “I love Cheetos? Anything cheese-flavored, really.”
“I’m a sucker for those Hostess donuts,” he said, staring into the distance wistfully.
“Oh man, those are really good. Okay - sometimes I will just cut a big chunk of cheese and eat it.”
“Yeah, but that’s like acceptable,” he said.
“Is it?” I laughed.
The doors to the theater opened and we huddled in line with the other people who were waiting. Midway through the movie he set the popcorn on the floor and picked up my hand.
--
That evening I grilled him on details of the house. When will it close? What is he going to do first? What furniture does he need to buy? He will likely close at the beginning of January, he wants to replace the bathroom floor. He likes most of the furniture from West Elm, but wants to take his time on the purchases. He would rather have no dining room table than one he doesn’t really love. We agree that grey is the best choice for wall color.
--
“When do I get to see you again?” I asked as I walked backward down the hallway of his apartment toward the door.
“Oh,” he started, “Well, I’m really busy next week.”
“Ah okay.” I said. “Just let me know.” Cool girl.
And you had better believe that I dwelled on that moment above all the others in the following days.
--
There is something weird that happens in the process of writing about every date. I spend hours reliving and discussing each conversation. I’m not sure to what extent this over-analysis is affecting my perception of the events. I think I am spending more time in each of these moments than he is.
--
“The next time you’re intimidated by him, just imagine him in his sweatpants with nutritional yeast all down his front.” April counseled me.
“Um yeah, but I’m sure when he says he has it all over him, it’s actually like three little flakes of nutritional yeast.” I countered. “I saw him in his sweatpants. He made this comment like ‘I’m in full lounge mode today,’ but they were super nice! I was like, ‘Yeah, you look super dumpy.’”
“Did you actually say that?”
“Of course not, he looked great.”
Dating Soundtrack this week:
The Smiths, How Soon is Now
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
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