--Continued--
Mark: Is your party over?
Me: Would I be on Facebook if I was still at a party?
Mark: Good point. Wanna hang out?
Me: ...Fine.
Mark: Great! Now...what's there to do in Provo at this time of night?
Me: Well...there's the dollar theater...
Mark: Great! I'll come pick you up!
The only movie that started so late was Pink Panther 2. Since the movie started at 12:30 and that's when he picked me up, we walked into the movie about 10 minutes late, one of my major pet peeves. Thinking, however, that I should continue giving him the benefit of the doubt, I followed him confidently into the near-empty movie theater, anticipating an enjoyable cinematic experience.
Unfortunately, this was not to be the case, though that evening I gained a true appreciation for something which I had never before considered to be anything other than a nuisance: cheap dollar theater seats. As soon as we sat down, Mark attempted to put up the armrest between our seats. Typically, someone who makes this mistake will quickly cease the attempt and laugh it off. However, as I had discovered since our electronic reunion a few months earlier, Mark is anything but typical. Rather than playing off his faux pas, he continued his struggle against the chair for a full minute before I leaned over and whispered to him:
Me: Hey, Mark?
Mark: Yeah?
Me: I don't think it goes up.
Mark: Really? *wiggles armrest*
Me: Yeah, I'm pretty sure.
Mark: Oh. I thought maybe it was just stuck.
This defeat didn't fluster Mark in the slightest. He simply sat back in his seat and, with an air of almost sangfroid, he pulled out--you guessed it--a bag of Lifesavers. Then he proceeded to engage in another one of my biggest movie pet peeves: talking through the movie. Now, I have nothing against talking with a friend while watching a movie both of you have seen several times, or even making a few relevant comments throughout a movie that I haven't seen. However, I absolutely can not stand when people try to make conversation with me during a movie that I have never seen. For instance: it is not acceptable to ask me about my major, my family, school, or my previous boyfriends unless it directly pertains to the movie. Since Mark addressed all of the aforementioned subjects during the hour and a half or so that we were in the theater, it was quite the miserable experience for me.
But, hark! Sometimes wishes do come true! The movie ended, we were walking out the door, we were getting in the car, he was starting the car, and we were heading back to my dorm--
But, alas, he seemed to think the date was going rather well:
Mark: So what else is there to do in Provo at this time of night?
Me: What??
Mark: You know--what places are open at 2am?
Me: Well...there's Walmart...and the park...
Mark: Great! Where's the park?
My attempt to tactfully suggest that we should go home because it was too late for anything to be open for business and therefore far beyond my bedtime was perhaps a bit too subtle. We went to the park, with me silently fuming over the fact that I had never learned how to say "no."
I do love parks, though, and thought that perhaps I could make the most of this opportunity. Whilst we were swinging on the swings and talking about subjects that I don't quite remember due to the lateness of the hour, I suddenly realized that though I had been assuming that Mark was 26, which was eight years older than I was at the time, I didn't actually know that.
Me: Hey Mark, how old are you?
Mark: How old do you think I am?
Me: Well, I kind of assumed 26.
Mark: Yeah, that's how old I look.
Me: ...How old are you really?
Mark: 28.
That's a ten year age gap! As a freshman in college who had very little experience with older guys, this was very mind-boggling, particularly since he knew exactly how old I was! I didn't know what to say to this, so I did what any sleep-deprived, naive, college freshman girl would do: I pretended like it hadn't happened, and continued playing on the playground.
Eventually we migrated over to a jungle gym. I wasn't paying very close attention to much of anything, so I was caught completely off-guard when Mark appeared as if by magic and began trying to tickle my sides. I escaped to the other side of the jungle gym as quickly as possible, not for the first time in my life grateful that I'm not particularly ticklish. This naturally led to a conversation about our various ticklish spots. This in turn led to a monologue (on his side, entirely without provocation or encouragement from me) about spots that do other things, like turn him on, which apparently spurned the following conversation:
Mark: Hey, Michelle?
Me: Yeah?
Mark: How many guys have you kissed?
Me: Um...Six.
Mark: Oh. Well, I wouldn't mind being your lucky number seven!
Me: ...I'll keep that in mind, Mark.
At that point, I asked him to take me home. I no longer had any delusions about rescuing the date or giving him the benefit of the doubt. As we walked toward his car, he hip-bumped me off the side walk and I would have fallen down the hill if he hadn't quickly wrapped his arm around my waist, pulled me in close, and said: "I just saved your life! I'm your Lifesaver!" I quickly stepped out of his arm and booked it to the car, making a note to avoid even accidental contact on the way home. When he dropped me off at my dorm, I was unbuckled and opening the car door with my key card ready in hand before he had even come to a complete stop. I sprinted for my building and only stopped to catch my breath after I was safely sequestered behind the alarmed and locked outer door. Finally, it was over.
Or so I thought. The next day, with no preamble, Mark sent me a text:
Dear Michelle,
Remember that one time when you almost fell down a hill and died but I saved you? Good times.
Love,
Mark
Needless to say, I didn't respond to that text, his requests for my address once I moved, or his not-so-subtle hints of possible visits while we were both home back east for the summer.
--The End--
