Rushmore at midnight

2009.12.7 Rushmore at Midnight

Before Monday: We’d met several times before; a friend of a friend type thing. Each meeting, we hit it off, chatting on and on about the tortures of writing and our oddly similar taste in obscure films. Yet, time and time again, no effort was made to connect beyond these random sightings. Until..

Monday: “Meet me at Sunshine Theater, Friday night. A midnight showing of Rushmore with me and a friend.”

Appearances might state our differences. I work in finance, graduated from NYU with vast, frustrating ambitions. He moved to New York out of high school to write for a tech savvy blog site. He’s casual and rides his skateboard to work. I’ve had dapper and distinguished men of style introduce me to international, elite art clubs; I’ve been taken to fancy dinners and intellectual talks at the Yale Club. However, the prospect of Rushmore at midnight had me twisted with anticipation unlike any of the suave dates previous. This man somehow (most likely without realizing it) found the key to my heart and turned the key.

Friday: Rushing through the day exhausted, I made it just in time. Meeting and greeting me outside, he handed me a ticket as we hurried to our seats. Stated fact, I love Wes Anderson and had never seen this, the film that brought his vast recognition. It was perfect, impeccable, I cried throughout with tears of laughter. By the end I was soo thoroughly pleased, I wished it wouldn’t end. He and his sister walked me to the train. Passing Christmas trees, I expressed my love and he admitted he hasn’t had one since moving to the city. Forty minutes later, I received a text from him thanking me for coming out and telling me he had purchased a Christmas tree on his walk home.

Saturday: Waking up early I’d promised my roommates I’d participate in a kitchen cleaning overhaul. Nine hours later, my roommates had been long gone as I was left to finish the job. Having three cocktail parties on the docket for the night, I decided not to bear the thought of putting on a dress and heels to traipse into the snow for these parties. I sent a text instead. “I am so embarrassed; I forgot to pay you back for the film last night. When will I see you again to pay you back?” An immediate response followed. “I’m not worried about the price of the ticket, only hurt. When are you free?” Elated, I responded, I’d canceled my other plans and was free that night. We had dinner, talked for two hours and went to view another film.

Two dates in one weekend. I must like this guy. I do like him. I just really like him. I am enticed to hope this could be the beginning of something great.