Chibimagic's Weblog

Second date

Posted on: March 25, 2014

“The thing about Batman is, he needs a hard line because he doesn’t think he can stop.”

I nod and listen to him continue.

“Because The Joker is bad because he killed 10,000 people. But what about this guy, he killed 100 people. That’s pretty bad. I guess we should kill him too. But what about THIS guy, he killed 5 people. And that’s pretty bad too…”

This dinner started out pretty lame. I was hungry and thirsty from running, and in the distraction I defaulted to the usual small talk: TV shows, music, life whatevers.

“Music is pretty much the kiss of death,” A had said earlier that day at brunch.

“Yeah,” M agreed. “I only ask about music if I’ve exhausted all other avenues of conversation and can think of absolutely nothing else to talk about.”

A snickered and stared off awkwardly into space as if she were on a bad date. “Soooo…” she asked the empty chair across from her. “Do you.. enjoy.. music…?”

Funny.

“And at the end, his girlfriend says to him, ‘How fucking selfish are you, that you would place your own honor above the fate of the world?'”

Idealism vs pragmatism. Utilitarianism. The nature of reality. Zero disagreement. Zero bullshit. All night he has been nothing but upfront and earnest. I gulp it down like the ice water they’ve been refilling all evening. It’s my only criteria. I went into this not caring, but he’s surprising me.

Things have taken a turn for a better since we steered the conversation into taboo territory. We talk about politics. Religion. Children. Again, zero disagreement. Not that that’s unusual for these topics, considering the valley. But I’m feeling adventurous—or perhaps I’m looking for an excuse to sabotage this—so I bring up money. Who’s paying for dinner? (Because what better way to diffuse an awkward situation than to talk about it?) In my head he’s already racking up points for making me comfortable enough that I can ask about it in the first place. He describes his strategy to me: he would reach for the check when it was offered but give me a chance to object. Prepared to pay for dinner, prepared to split, prepared to let me pay.

This is not a boy that will keep me awake at night writing sad stories, I think to myself. I was looking for some fundamental disagreement. Something to scare him off so that I wouldn’t have to begin the slow hard process of opening up again. But I haven’t found it yet.

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