It wasn’t a long time of Messenger-ing about movies
and catching up on everyday stuff before The Coach started calling me “sweetheart”
and telling me he’d thought about me. (Some people, and I’m probably one of
them, mean something real specific and sticky when they say they’ve thought
about you! I don’t dislike it!) Around the time I was seeing the opportunity
and thinking he and I should hang out sometime, he asked if I wanted to hang
out sometime.
I told him I’d been dying to see Candyman and
hadn’t wanted to go by myself. (BFF will tolerate a horror movie, but she isn’t
a fan.) He’d already seen it but didn’t mind going again. He found the
showtime. He got the tickets. He picked the seats. Is that all it takes for me
to feel cared-for, looked after?
There was some talk about movie makeouts, but the morning
of our date I remembered to ask that one annoying life-or-death question and
no, he wasn’t fully vaccinated. (I am, but I’m not trying to get the Delta!) Only
halfway there. So I told him there couldn’t be any snuggles until after his
second shot. I think I knew, in my heart of hearts, someone who’s right for me
would have been vaccinated by the end of May. I think you’ve gotta be at least
that much of a team player. Still, I know we’re all coming at medical stuff
from different angles, and I REALLY wanted a movie date, so I didn’t make it a
dealbreaker.
(Before I asked about vax status, I’d fully decided I
would take him home after the movie if I got the chance. I was/am horny,
nothing wrong with that!)
(Honestly I half-expected him to back out when I told
him there wouldn’t be snuggles for a while.)
I got READY for this 5$ Movie Night date. I took everything
off my todo list that day (not much was on there since I was on staycation) except
manicure and pedicure. I bought a pretty new dress (light blue and fairy-ish
with a little gold glitter) and a tiny butterfly necklace for transformation. Possibly
this is a story about having a crush on THE MOVIES themselves, or on totally
femme-ing it up, but The Coach brought it all together so nicely.
I liked how decisive and swaggery he was, carrying the
snacks for us and leading us to our back row seat. I liked how he knew the
movie was directed by Nia DaCosta, not Jordan Peele.
I moved the soda from the armrest cupholder so our
elbows could touch. I got chilly and he lent me his jacket. I hid behind said
cozy hoodie during the grisliest scenes and made him tell me when it was safe
to look. It seems like this particular gender-sparkle should have happened to
me long ago, but somehow, I’d missed it.
It was just the best time. The crowd was talkative in just
the way I prefer, just the way I’d missed for all the quar-months. This really
is a little bit a love story about the movies.
Even though (Or because?) there was a makeout embargo,
The Coach gave me such an unexpected new kind of joy. There’s only two or three more more
installments left of his story, but long live femme-ing it up at Candyman—one
of my favorite adventures yet.
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