James pays for his order and we stand together waiting for the popcorn while I contemplate my life decisions. After a few seconds of staring at two identical ceiling tiles above us, I come to a single conclusion. Men suck.
An employee in the standard theater black polo shirt slides the medium bucket of popcorn across the counter. I pick it up and follow James to the small area where the soda machines sit ready for people to pour their own. He asks what I’d like, but considering I don’t plan to drink any, his choice doesn’t matter. I’m not ready to share spit with the man.
“Do you mind if I throw a few M&Ms in the popcorn?” I ask with the bucket held out in front of me.
“What?” He turns with narrow pinched eyes like I asked to sacrifice a chicken before the movie starts.
I hesitate but figure I need to see it through. “Just a few. To warm them up.”
It’s a fine explanation, but James’ accusing eyes become small slits at the bucket of popcorn.
“Absolutely not.” He takes a giant step toward me and snatches the popcorn, wrapping an arm around the middle protectively. “They'll melt and get chocolate all over the popcorn.”
The man doesn’t understand the concept of the M&M. My chest tightens in irritation. Soon I’ll lose the ability to discuss this calmly, so I keep my answer short. “Not really."
I do this all the time. The M&Ms get nice and soft so when you eat them with popcorn they don’t crunch. It’s a perfect combination.
“It doesn’t make logical sense,” he responds and I can’t help noticing the superiority in his tone. “They’re denser than the popcorn and will fall to the bottom. How would you find them? Do you plan to root around with your hand touching all the popcorn?”
So now he’s concerned with sharing? How convenient. My whole body tenses the longer he stares at me like I’m an alien moron ready to violate his precious popcorn. I consider ending this whole fiasco now and walking out, but I don't want to cause problems for Aspen’s sister-in-law at work.
My surrender comes through clenched teeth. “Never mind. I’ll keep them in the bag.” It doesn’t matter. There’s no popcorn in my future without a drink to wash it down with, and he’s not getting any of my straw spit.
James picks seats in the middle of the theater, which I appreciate, but he takes the aisle seat without even asking for my preference. There isn’t much of a wait for the lights to dim, and the first preview pops up on the big screen right along with James’ first bite of popcorn. An incredibly loud first bite of popcorn.
I try to tune it out, but by the time the third rating screen flashes away, I fear I’ll soon be forced to strangle him. For the first time tonight I’m happy we’re at an action movie. It needs to be loud to drown out the noise from his spot at my side. What is the man eating? Rocks? Are his fucking teeth jackhammers? His continues to chomp away faster and louder than humanly possible until I fear I’ll lose my mind.
I excuse myself for a last minute bathroom break and send Aspen a frantic message begging to be saved at the end of this movie. What are best friends for if not to spare you the pain of another bad blind date?
**
One hundred and ten minutes of blood, guts, and gun fights later my torture came to an end when the final credits rolled. The only plus for the movie? Repeated gunfire helped silence Chompy McChompson although I could have done without his repeated attempts to push his spittle drink on me.
I caught a cab out of there as fast as possible thanks to Aspen’s rescue text. With the sweetest smile I could muster, I explained to James how I had to get home to feed Aspen’s new cat Mittens. There’s no cat, but James graciously accepted my best friend as an irresponsible pet owner. Now I have to cross my fingers he never asks Aspen’s sister-in-law about her grey tabby.
My calves burn by the time I hit the fourth-floor stairwell and enter the code to open the door to my hallway. It’s a few short steps to my wooden apartment door and I let out a sigh when I spot the bright yellow Post-it note stuck to the middle of it. What could it be now?
I stop in front of my door not touching the note, but standing close enough to read the messy male scrawl.
This is in violation of rule number six.
Underneath his comment, my landlord drew a thick black arrow pointing to the floor where my scroll and flower outdoor mat sits in front of my door. I’m glad there’s an arrow pointing me in the right direction in case there was any confusion. There’s no one around to see, but I flip off the note for good measure and rip it off the door as I unlock it.
The square piece of yellow paper will go nicely with my growing collection. Soon I’ll have one for every day of the week. The last few he left only had the rule I’d been accused of breaking slashed across them, leaving me to figure out exactly what I'd done. Yesterday it was number two, but I haven’t decided if my yelling at the stupid buyers onHouse Huntersforced him to break out the yellow pad or the alarm clock I snoozed a few times…… okay five times. If only he’d time stamp them.
I pull the mat in behind me and reposition it on the inside of my apartment. Let him complain about it now. If she hadn’t saved me with her cat story earlier, I’d be more upset at Aspen. “He’s never here,” she said. “Don’t worry about the rules," she said. “It will be all right, Marissa,” she said. Pfft.
My refrigerator’s empty, but there’s half a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in the freezer. Ice cream. The perfect Friday dinner option post bad date. A choice compounded by the fact I get to spend my Saturday at work.
The tan cushions bounce as I flop down on the couch, the carton of ice cream and spoon in hand. I consider turning on the television, but the remote sits halfway across the room on the corner of the entertainment center. Retrieving it requires more energy than I possess at the moment. Plus, I’d be forced to put down the ice cream. Without a coffee table in the middle, there's nowhere to stick it besides the floor. Ice cream never belongs on the floor.
The events of tonight’s failed date cycle through my head as I try to savior the first bite of my frozen dinner. It wasn’t the fact I couldn’t put M&Ms in my popcorn or the shared drink. It’s not about the popcorn. It’s about everything else.
Back when I had my cards lined up in a nice little row, I’d be married by now. Sure Cody never let me mix M&Ms in his popcorn, but he always bought me my own small size to do whatever I wanted with. We compromised.
Cody and I had tons of plans together. Nights spent envisioning the future and how we’d take over the world. My plans didn’t include him fucking a coworker, probably under a desk, and his did. Silly me.
The worst part is, Cody isn’t the most despicable guy on the planet. He feels bad for what he did, but his repeated apologies weren’t enough. It’d be easy to hate Cody, and a small part of me will… forever, but the truth is he isn’t a bad guy. He made a stupid, stupid decision and, unfortunately for both of us, I can never take him back. I can’t build a future with someone I can’t trust that future to.
