June 12th, 2010
Tonight I had grand plans of watching Spirit of the Marathon, but then Pearl Harbor came on AMC and I got sucked in.
Man, it takes me back to high school days. I had such a crush on Josh Harnett because of this movie. And really, it was only because of this movie. Every other movie I saw with him was total crap. I just really liked his character. I tend to be attracted to shy, somewhat socially awkward men. Yea, Dave that means you. But in all seriousness, I tend to be attracted to the guys who don’t need to speak, they just do. Men of action, if you will—not particularly loquacious.
Sunshine just wasn’t that kind of guy. (Sunshine is in fact a real person, but I’ll keep his real name a secret. I think Sunshine sums up his personality rather well) He was a singer and an actor, and he liked to talk a lot. I can be a pretty talkative person myself, but Sunshine kept me quiet, listening to stories about how he was a singer and an actor.
It was the end of my freshman year of high school, and my friends had orchestrated a little “date” for me with Sunshine, who attended another high school. We had spent some time emailing and IM-ing (remember AIM?) but our first date was to see the movie Pearl Harbor.
When my mom dropped me off in front of the theater, there he was, in his Hawaiian shirt bursting with energy and confidence both in himself and his wardrobe.
Even before I got out of the car, I knew this was going nowhere.
I don’t know why it took me until I saw his hibiscus patterned outfit to know this wasn’t guy for me. There were plenty of other signs.
Like when one evening in June he started planning our date to his school’s winter semi-formal. According to Sunshine, we would match, “probably wearing blue”.
Or, after an exciting softball game, I shared with him that I pitched a great game and even hit a triple! Sunshine’s response: “What’s a triple?”
So as if sitting next to the tropically adorned Sunshine in that theatre wasn’t enough of a reminder that he just wasn’t my type, I was watching a movie that reminded me that there are Danny Walkers in this world. They don’t need to boast of their talents, coordinate our wardrobes, and know what a triple is—and could probably hit them too.
And really, if he was so into coordinating our clothes, you think he could have at least asked me to come to the movies dressed in my grandmother’s cape and cap from nursing school?
I mean really, why should he be the only one to play dress up?
Time to dish! What’s the worst date you’ve been on?!