So Jon and mystery girl lasted about a week before he realized that her actions held no irony and therefore she was just on a lower plane of reality than he was. That and she wouldn’t put out. She totally thought that I was her friend now, something about us both being disappointed by Jon. Bonding via douchebaggery. Let it be known that I’m a terrible person, I couldn’t stand her but let her believe we were close to get information on her ex lover. I knew I was awful from the moment I grabbed her hands, looked into her eyes and lied:
“You deserve so much better!”
So Jon was desperate at this point and I was painfully single so he decided it would be wise to approach me after totally humiliating me in front of my classmates and his creationist cult of a family. The thing is, he said he missed my dry wit and sunny disposition. Never again have the words “wit” or “sunny” been used to describe me since. I should have shot him down, but he was actually making eye contact with me. I mean, who else could fully appreciate the film festival event he had gotten tickets to. What other girl would want to see an exposition of Hitchcock’s blondes with a lecture from the president of the film association? And seriously who else would put up with him as he grumbled about shot composition. He needed someone to look smart in front of and I was too impressed with the tickets to say no. It was a sugar daddy Catch 22.
And I looked hot for this date. Again. A different set of leather boots and a cleavagy shirt. And classy make up reminiscent of Grace Kelly herself, goodness knows I looked the part for the evening. Always dress for the class you wish you had.My mom’s boyfriend drove me there while I received thoughtful romantic texts like:
Will you be here soon? -J
You’re not late but you might be.-J
So he shows up in a letterman jacket and sunglasses. (Not a sports team letterman jacket, a film club letterman jacket. Yeah, they make those.) My mom’s boyfriend spotted him and asked if I was a lesbian, we were off to a good start. So we enter the swanky film festival building and he stands a good two feet away from me at all times, like he’s embarrassed someone will see us and assume we’re on some sort of passionate rendez-vous at 3pm on a Sunday.
Suddenly I spot her at the other end of the hall waving to us … his mother. The kid took his mother on the date. I’m not a dating expert, all I have are my mom’s failed relationships to go off of, but something tells me there was one too many of us. I mean it started off cute, date two was a bit early to bond with the family, but if he was ready to move fast I could be too.
After awkward chitchat usually reserved for getting seated at the wrong table during a wedding reception, we sat down in the theatre auditorium. The mother figure made sure to plant herself right in between us. The movie started and it was about as boring as you’d think an early Hitchcock retrospective would be. Hipsters in plaid shirts mumbled quietly about use of saturation to themselves, creating an eery atmosphere akin to a psych ward. I couldn’t even glance over at Jon with sultry bedroom eyes because his hawk mom was glaring me down like she could smell my intentions to corrupt young Jon. Then I noticed it. They were holding hands.
I have no issue with boys who are close to their mothers, but this was a new level of disturbing. It was kind of like finding out Freud was right and the world is a messed up place. Exactly like that. Thankfully, the movie ended and I made a dainty exit, but not before Jon shook my hand goodbye and said “I hope you didn’t think this was an actual date or anything.” Needless to say, I never hung out with Jon again. But he wasn’t my last romantic failure.