Fits and Starts

by Desvelada

Mike and I made a date to see Luis Bunuel's Wuthering Heights at the local movie art-house. I'd seen his profile online and liked his sense of humor, so we'd been emailing each other over a week. Our exchanges were tentative and polite, and when he asked to meet, I thought a movie would be a low-pressure way to get to know someone. We wouldn't have to do much talking initially, and when we got out of the movie, we'd have a ready-made subject to get the conversation going.

That day, I spent some time in the morning figuring out an outfit that was cute enough for a date, but not too over-the-top for work. I spent the day at my desk trying to focus on my work, but getting more and more nervous as quitting time approached. My best co-worker buddy, Dennis, teased me from the next cubicle. "Be gentle with him! Don't forget to ask him about his spoon."

When the time came to meet, I walked down the street toward the theater, my high-heeled black boots matching the pounding of my heart. Seriously, I was so nervous that I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. What if this was THE guy? What if I were about to meet my soul mate? Giddily, I thought that my dating days might be about to end within the next few hours.

When I got to the theater, I walked upstairs to the box office and scanned the lounge area. I thought I saw a familiar face lurking toward the back, and walked over toward him. He was studiously reading the free weekly, perhaps a little overzealously, when I stopped in front of him and asked, "Mike?" He looked up and smiled nervously.

Did he look like his picture? Well, if you remembered the broader strokes of the picture, sure. But the finer details that couldn't be made out before were suddenly very apparent. Not to say that he had doctored his picture in any way, but let's face it, it had probably been scanned in from a very fuzzy original. He was decent looking enough...yet his eyelids had these curious bumps on them that I have to confess, sorta skeeved me out.

Taking a deep breath and plunging ahead, I smiled back, and asked him how his day had been. Getting the preliminary awkward chit-chat out of the way, we went to the ticket window and bought our tickets (dutch). Finding our seats somewhere in the middle rows, we settled down for what turned out to be a very strange movie.

For anyone who's ever seen Bunuel--and if you've watched Un Chien Andalou, you know what I mean--Wuthering Heights was more on the normal side of his typical film. The scene at the end that smacks of necrophilia...yeah, sort of creepy, but it wasn't out of the realm of what you might expect from one of his films.

We walked out of the theater, and I started to talk about that weird ending. Pretty soon, I felt like I was maybe talking too much, and asked him what he thought. "Yeah, I guess it was weird." Hmmm....ok. I guess I expected a little more, but I can accept that not everyone overanalyzes everything like I do. What other movies did he like? He mentioned a handful, but didn't elaborate. I sighed inwardly. I'm not exactly the most chatty kind of person, and I wondered how long we'd be able to sustain a conversation. Since we really hadn't spent too much one-on-one time, I suggested we walk across the street to the Irish pub to get a drink.

Once there, I gamely attempted to find out his likes and his dislikes. He liked some sports, but since I never watch anything that involves ball-throwing activity, I couldn't really engage him on that topic. Somehow the conversation veered to his unemployment, and his disillusionment over that, and his bitterness over his family life. I started to feel kind of down, and thought about getting another drink to help him drown his sorrows, but thought better of it and asked if we could call it a night, mentioning an early start at work the next day.

Once I got to the office, I spent twenty minutes dissecting the evening with Dennis. Mike wasn't a bad guy, and he wasn't bad-looking, but was it up to me to help him feel better about himself? Could I really spend any more time with this guy without feeling like I wanted to drive my car into oncoming traffic?

Mike emailed me later that day to thank me for a nice evening. Very carefully worded, the email made no suggestion about meeting for a second date. It sounded like he was giving me an out, and feeling a pang of guilt, I got out.