Between Forgetfulness and Flying Turtles
Seeing part one of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows seemed like a good idea for a first date. She absolutely loved Harry Potter and I am a huge analyst. Personally the lack of character development and the fact that the plot of good versus evil was so cliché only left the story as mediocre in my mind but that doesn't mean I couldn't enjoy myself in other ways in aspects concerning the movie.
Personally, I have loved Evanna Lynch's acting. Her skills as an actress are very clear in her portrayal of Luna Lovegood. That's as far as my admiration goes for her though, because she is a person who I don't know. Jess, my girlfriend of twelve days (at the time that is) was someone who I admired for her beauty, kindness, perseverance, in addition to her constant vigor. I always make sure to remind her of that every so often (maybe more than I have to, but she loves to hear it). We could both get what we wanted out of the film and then afterwards we would go out to enjoy dinner at Red Robin (once again her choice but I had no problem with it).
When we were making the planning for it she had offered to pay, but I found the idea absurd feeling that: first of all, I asked her out so I should be the one to pay for the first date, and secondly, I get a weekly paycheck from the grocery store I work at, therefore I should be the one with the financial responsibilities. She disagreed saying that she should pay for one of the events since it costs a lot of money. Originally I thought that the movie would be more expensive than Red Robin so I was about to volunteer for the former when she revealed to me she had coupons and other discount items. Then I took it upon myself to pay for dinner.
Upon our arrival to the theater I held the door open for Jess. Her beautiful eyes just lit up and she smiled somewhat shyly as if we were somehow strangers but yet interested in each other. She had her hair, golden like flax but soft like a pillow tied in a pony tail that was about as long as my elbow to my wrist. Her face was red due to the weather which had reached single digits on the Fahrenheit scale. She quietly let out a "Thanks Matt," as she made her way through the first door holding the second one open for me. I thanked her in return as we walked in together discussing how forgetful I can be.
While we were in line to buy tickets for the three thirty showing I pulled out my wallet getting ready to pay for the ticket when she turned and looked at me questioningly. "Right, I already forgot that you were going to pay for this even though we were discussing if thirty seconds ago."
"I can see that," she replied with a laugh and a cute smile.
Slightly embarrassed I slowly tucked my wallet into my back pocket and muttered, "I fail."
"No you don't," she protested. "You just forgot."
"It happens way too often," I say with my cheeks slightly growing in temperature and I could only imagine them reddening even slightly. She just shook her head and smiled like she always does kindly whenever I get disappointed in myself—which is more often than I care to admit, but so often that my friends tell me I need to stop worrying about simple things and take them for what they are (they're right but I don't care to admit that much either and try to dismiss the thoughts from my head).
"You know," I began addressing her as she turned around to face me, "we probably spent more time planning tonight than what the duration of the night will be."
"The sad thing is you're probably right," she admits.
"But it will be well worth it," I assure her.
"I don't doubt that," she laughs once again looking at me and I don't even have to look at her lips to know she's smiling. All I have to see is how her normally dull green eyes light up as we meet each others' gaze. Dull isn't a bad thing. In fact, I love it when her eyes are more like the camouflage of a military uniform. It reminds me of the big dream I had to join the National Guard, which prior to our time out that night was shut out indefinitely. When her eyes turned to emeralds it reminds me of the new value I've found in life and the new opportunities I have ahead of me.
As she orders the tickets I keep thinking to myself how empty the theater is even for an afternoon matinee. I wasn't complaining though. That meant there were less chances of me running into someone I know—which on my first date would keep my nerves a little calmer. Jess was quick to give me the tickets as she worked at doing something I can't quite recall (which once again proves my forgetfulness. Shameful).
I hand the tickets over to the… was it a man or a woman? I can't remember for the life of me. I can only imagine Jess reading this and trying to find a reasonable excuse to how this isn't a failure beyond epic proportions. There is no way she could defend me this time. We made our way over to theater nine skipping the snacks and drinks that were a little luxurious in price range, besides dinner at Red Robins was going to be much better in price range.
When we made it into the theater I allowed her to pick the seats. We were the only ones in it at the time. The dim light and Michael Bublé's take on Let It Snow playing in the background gave it a kind of romantic feel. I'm not a high end romance fanatic, nor am I knowledgeable about much as far as romance is concerned overall, but this had an unmistakable chill to it. Whether it was romantic or my mind playing tricks I just had to sing along. Jess looked at me and smiled. "I can't sing well," she admitted to me.
"It doesn't matter to me at all," I replied with a smile. "It's Michael Bublé; I am required to sing along."
"I'm excited," she practically yelled. Since we were the only ones in the theater it didn't really matter but I was indeed right next to her.
"Me too," I whispered hoping she might get the hint. A few people filed in and Jess was still talking in her loud voice which I got her to turn down before the movie. While we whispered back and forth during the previews I couldn't help but wonder what kind of an impression I was making so far. Judging by the smile on her face and the shining of her eyes it was a good one. But what was it about me that was so special to her? It doesn't really matter I suppose nor does it? I dismissed my thoughts for the time while watching the previews commenting on some of them.
"He needs to shave," I said pointing at an actor in a film preview I couldn't remember. She laughed. The whole shaving thing is an inside joke. One day after she hugged me she slowly leaned away—but not completely away—to say, "You need to shave." That was the last thing she said to me face to face that day.
From then on during the previews we made such comments on who needs to shave or made fun of the movies. During the last preview I made a gesture moving my arm onto the arm rest with the palm of my hand open facing up. Sure it wasn't the traditional arm around her like a lot of guys try to pull on the first date but this isn't about what everyone else does. This is about showing who I am, and doing what I am comfortable doing at this stage in our young relationship. I also have to consider her comfort level too. I don't really care what anyone else thinks. It is my firm belief that this relationship must lay down a firm foundation before building any sort of advanced structure. We need to support each other and then let us grow. This is just high school. There is a much farther way to go from here to burn too many candles and build to high.
She accepted the invitation and locked her hand into mine. I actually felt bad about this when I realized that my hand was Antarctica and hers was Oahu. She shouldn't have to endure the burden of my hands that are constantly as cold as hells opposite temperature realm. Somehow she didn't seem to mind at all and gave me a quick smile before the movie began.
During the movie we'd occasionally glance at each other or whisper a quick comment. When Luna finally was shown on the screen Jess whispered in my ear, "Your favorite," to which I replied, "I favor you more." This drew a smile on her lips.
Near the end of the movie I cried just a little bit (spoiler alert) because Dobby died. I'm an emotional man, what can I say? She thought it was humorous that I cried. I guess that's life. She still hasn't let go of the fact that I cried—not that it bothers me in the slightest. We walked out of the theater having been entertained and set course for Red Robin so that we could have a meal together.
The air bit me almost immediately and the frozen hell of my hands returned to me. While watching the move they warmed up—with all credit going towards Jess. Even though she claimed to not have minded warming up my hands I still felt rather guilty about it. Was holding my hand really that worth it to not consider the cold as a factor? But I am used to my hands being so cold. This time I keep my hands away from her and endure the chill myself and even hold the door for her once again at Red Robin.
When we walked in I gave the female greeter my last name which makes her ask for my first name because she'd never remember how to pronounce my last name if I told her it a million times. We took seats on a bench next to each other. "I should have just said young," I chuckle. "That's what my parents always do. LaJeunesse translated into English means the young. Oh well. I fail again."
"Stop it you don't fail!" she protested once again. "It's fine."
I smiled at her again and I forget most of our discussion beyond that point. I really hate having forgetfulness as the trope of my life but it seems I was cursed with it. When we were guided to our table she took a seat at one end and I at the other so that we were facing each other. We talked about the movie as we decided on our order. After ordering we had a discussion about a dream she had the night before.
Supposedly it started at the front entrance of the school where I was trying to talk to her but she was ignoring me for one reason or another that wasn't specified when her guidance counselor came over. Apparently she too could not get Jess to converse with us when we decided to talk about flying turtles. Apparently, her guidance counselor brought Jess into her office intending to exclude me from any discussion. I then managed to sneak in the office when I was promptly and sternly told to get out, but I ignored the warning. I then began to float in mid air with the dream ending with me shouting, "Flying turtle!"
I honestly had no idea what to make of the dream so I decided to try and use the opportunity to make a semi-cute (cute is not normally in my vernacular but its strange the things you do when communicating with someone special) moment. "If I became a flying turtle would you try and join me?" I asked (yes I know how absolutely pathetic that sounded).
"I would definitely try if I could control it," she replied casually (did she not notice how much of a fail my attempt at a cute moment was?).
I smiled at her slightly embarrassed that I even asked such a desperate question. Then we just looked at each other without speaking for a while when a thought crossed my mind. What does she see when she looks at me? I mean, I'm a junior in high school, and not a single person once viewed me as ever being the type of person to be in such a relationship with. I look at her and see a beautiful young lady who is outgoing, amiable, courteous, intelligent, humorous, affectionate, compassionate, and congenial. What is she seeing in me when she looks back?
After we had our meal I asked her if she would like desert to which she replied she wasn't in the mood for. I did reassure her that money was not an object if that was her concern and she said only if we split the desert. I agreed to do so knowing that my angel (that's how I refer to her) had a sweet tooth. After splitting a hot fudge sundae we departed to Barnes and Nobles where we would wait to be picked up.
When alas, we parted for the night, we both had enjoyed ourselves and would not forget (well me I forgot some details) the night. I bid a goodnight to my angel, knowing I would see her Monday at school. It is a milestone night of my life; that I only keep for forgetting more details of. Why do you think I wrote about it (answer: so I wouldn't forget.)?