Novel Project 2010 - Chapter Three

Surprisingly, it wasn't too long before I managed to arrange another date. This time with a teacher named Sarah - the occupation discussion having occurred over e-mail before arranging to meet. Despite this, I was still a little nervy about putting my foot in it, or worse. So I suggested we go to see a film, in the hope that this would give me less opportunities to say or do the wrong thing. Although this might have been wishful thinking - as upon arriving at the cinema we came to the sudden realisation that we hadn't actually given any thought to which film we might like to see.
    "Anything you particularly fancy?" I offered, cranking up the chivalry after my appalling prior performance.
    "Not really, you?" It seemed like Sarah was playing the same game. I considered pressing to get her to make a decision, but figured it would possibly be more polite to make a recommendation. This chivalry thing is tough.
    I suggested a nondescript romantic comedy I'd heard about. Breaking the typical stereotype of your average "bloke" I actually rather like romantic comedies, although I tend not to admit it as for some reason it tends to leave people wondering about my sexual preference. In this case, however, Sarah seemed to take it as an attempt to pander to stereotypical female taste. As it turned out, she was something of a nonconformist as well. She looked skywards while "umming" and "aaahing" a little, wanting to avoid my suggestion without flat out rejecting it. She glanced at the listings handily emblazoned on the front of the building and suggested and suggested an action movie.
    A nice thought, but not entirely appealing. From my perspective, this was on a par with suggesting we go to a strip club. Despite not wanting to admit it, most men would enjoy it as a guilty pleasure. And I always find guilt outweighing pleasure. I'd say it was my Catholic upbringing, but I'm not Catholic.
    "How about this one?" She said not entirely enthusiastically, pointing to a poster.
    "If you like." Back in full chivalry mode here.
    "Can see your one if you like."
    "No, no, its ok. If you want to see this one that's fine." Unfortunately, modern culture has labelled the phrase, "its fine" as anything but. Given our previous ambiguity and bluffing, I was beginning to doubt even my own intentions.
    "Its alright, if you want to see the other one, we can."
    I decided to call her bluff, or possibly double-bluff. I'd lost count of the exact level of bluff by this point.
    "How about we rock-paper-scissors for it? I win we see your film, you win we see my film."
    "Sounds fair."
     Fair it was indeed, if a little odd. Extreme politeness had left us competing to see who would have the honour of getting what the other one wanted.
    "OK, rock, paper, scissors…throw."
    We both threw rock.
    "Try again? Rock, paper scissors…throw."
    Once again, two rocks. Some might have seen this as an omen, a sign of a mystic psychic bond, or a shared personality that was a sign of a strong potential relationship ahead. Then again, everyone always picks rock.
    We chuckled to each other an silently threw again. I absent-mindedly threw rock and Sarah had paper. So the rom-com it was, and I took on the air of the gracious loser.
    As it turned out, the next showing started only a few minutes later. Of course, given the excessive amount of adverts they showed these days, we figured we had plenty of time to join the concessions queue. Even though the queue stretched from one end of the lobby to the other.
    I get the feeling that every time I go to the cinema, the popcorn sizes have got bigger. Which always struck me as odd, given that this exacerbated the effect of the price increases people are always moaning about.
    These size increases pose a big problem for anyone trying to make a good impression, as it becomes impossible to order anything but the smallest option without seeming greedy. And if you do order the smallest, that makes look cheap. I settled on the medium size - which could theoretically have saved a small village from starvation - under the assumption that we could share.
    These were all thoughts I was able to entertain standing in the queue, which was almost reaching the point of snaking when we joined it. We had nearly reached the front and were next in line, just behind a family who could be described as sizeable in every sense of the word. It was at this point that I realised we hadn't said anything since buying our tickets.
    "Do you prefer sweet or salty?" I asked, attempting to inject as neutral a tone as possible, to mask the possible double entendre.
    "Whichever you like." Politeness can really screw up decision making.
    "Ok, sweet then." I actually prefer salty popcorn, but I imagine most people enjoy sweet. There was no way in hell I was eating all of this to myself. I'd offer it to the people behind us if I had to.
    I can't remember a whole lot of the film, and no, not for the reason you might think. Or even the second reason. As it happens, I was so worried about putting across the right impression that I was completely distracted from the film.
    Am I sitting too close? I don't want to seem overeager. I'll move away a little just to be safe. Wait, maybe that's too far. What if she thinks I'm not enjoying her company? Maybe I should offer her some popcorn. But wait, I offered her some a couple of minutes ago and she didn't want any. I don't want to pressure her. Then again, maybe she's changed her mind. Its been a few minutes, I'm not being pushy. Am I? Never hurts to try.
    Nope, she didn't want any that time either. She seemed a little annoyed as well. I think. I'll just concentrate on the film, she's probably enjoying it and doesn't want interrupting.
    Ok, so I'm watching the film. Feeling empathy with the characters, pretending that I understand why he would employ someone who disagrees with him so often. Maintaining suspension of disbelief to expect that two people who hate each other will eventually end up in a relationship. Something funny just happened. Hope I'm not laughing too loud. I hate my laugh. I wonder if Sarah found it funny too, I'll take a quick glance. She's laughing, that's good. Seems pretty focused on the film too. She really is quite attractive when she laughs, her hair bobbing around like that. She's stopped laughing now, but still attractive. I hope I'm making a good impression. Hold on, how long have I been watching her? Oh God, please say she hasn't noticed, I know I'd find it creepy if I was sat next to someone in the cinema and they just kept staring at me. Christ, this dating thing is hard.
    I realise this, and yet I'm still looking. Ok, looking away in 3, 2, 1. Great, back to enjoying the film. Wait, who's that guy? Why are they suddenly on a boat?
    Luckily, the film hadn't got great reviews. I guess I can't have missed much.

    I managed to get through the film without committing any major faux pas - or at least without Sarah noticing any - so as we left the cinema the idea of actually having a conversation no longer seemed as disagreeable. The cinema itself was on the top floor of a generic inner-city shopping centre. You may not have been to the exact one, but I guarantee that if you've ever lived in a city you'll have been to one just like it. I knew of at least three in West London alone. The building's amenities were split over three levels: various shops on the ground floor, bars and restaurants on the first floor and the top floor occupied by the cinema and a gym. All this was spread around the edges of an atrium that might have provided ample natural lighting, if the ceiling weren't made of solid concrete. Seemingly the general idea was that you'd come to see a film or have a session at the gym, and then be tempted into a meal, drink, or spending binge in one of the establishments you were forced to pass on the way out. We were caught in the honey trap of a chain pub.
    It being a Tuesday, the pub was relatively empty. The weekly grind had not yet reached the point where a drinking binge was a viable escape, and the most dedicated partygoers were still recovering from the previous weekend. As it was we managed to occupy a pair of maroon, faux leather couches either side of what would be described as a coffee table, but was unlikely to have coffee placed on it. It being our first date, we each occupied a separate couch. We sat at one end of our respective couches, directly opposite one another. At this point, conversation was far more important than canoodling. That being the case, the couches were likely a mistake, as they were so deep, and the coffee so large, that we had to hunch forward to have any hope of hearing one another without shouting. I took a drinks order and headed to the bar.
    "So what did you think of the film?" Sarah asked as I sat back down.
    "Yeah, it was good." I took a guess, having missed enough of the plot to fail entirely in forming an opinion.
    "Really? I didn't think it was that great." I suppose I'd guessed wrong.
    "What about the bit with…never mind." I spouted in a mild panic, "Anyway, how's teaching treating you?" I asked, deftly changing the subject.
    "Its good, bit stressful sometimes, but I like it."
    "Is important to have a job you like. Too many people hate their work."
    "Exactly. Do you like your job?"
    "I do, yeah. Might seem dull, but I enjoy it." Knowing about our career paths up front certainly made this conversation easier.
    "That's good. Did you always want to work with computers?"
    "I'm not sure, can't remember back that far." I chuckled, taking a sip of my lager as I realised that my quip wasn't really that funny.
    "Can I ask you a question?"
    "Of course you can."
    "Where do you see yourself in five years?" All of a sudden I was at a job interview.
    "You mean in my career?"
    "Yeah, well, no. I meant just in general."
    I paused for a second before replying. "I really have no idea. Guess I'm kinda living year to year at the moment. See where life takes me." What I meant was I was pretty happy where I was and hadn't quite got around to thinking about the next step, but that wouldn't have sounded as free-spirited. "How about you?"
    "No major plans. But I'd like to meet the right guy and settle down over the next year, probably be married in two. We'd live with my mum for a while of course to save a little money. Then move out into somewhere nice and suburban, where we can buy a nice house. Two kids, one boy, one girl. Then when the kids are a little older, maybe we could adopt. Or foster. Give something back, you know?" Apparently this was nothing major. For someone who couldn't pick a film or popcorn variety she seemed surprisingly good at planning.
    "Sounds like you've got your whole life planned out."
    "Course not, only until I'm forty or so."
    "That's pretty much your whole life."
    "Don't be silly, its only half of it."
    "Not when you're in your twenties. Right now forty seems like an age away."
    "What's wrong with being prepared?"
    "Nothing, nothing. Works very well for the scouts in particular. I just don't think that far ahead. For me, being prepared doesn't get much beyond having fresh milk in the fridge."
    "You shouldn't be so afraid of committing."
    Now this took me somewhat aback. I may have a mild fear of commitment, like any red-blooded man, but a detailed timetable of a woman's intended future isn't something even the most dedicated family-man-in-training would like to hear on a first date. I would hope such revelations are saved for a point in the relationship when you've started exchanging spare keys, or the point at which they cease to be spare, and are just "keys". Meanwhile, as I'm mulling it over, Sarah has developed a look in her eyes that seems to demand a proposal then and there.
    "I'm not, I just like to take things a step at a time."
    "But how can you know where to go next when you don't know where you're headed?"
    "I don't know. I guess I just let things go where they go. Its exciting that way. If I felt like it I could up sticks and move abroad. See the world, and figure out where I'd want to be."
    "You really think you'll do that?"
    "Probably not, no."
    At this point, we both took an intense interest in our drinks as it became clear that we weren't entirely compatible. We chatted politely for a few minutes while we finished our drinks, and then mutually agreed to call it a night. So ok, it wasn't a particularly successful first date, but at least this one actually lasted longer than half an hour, and no clothes were ruined. I suppose this could be called an improvement, a few more like that and I might actually make it to a third date.