So last night my bestie Rachel’s husband Dave took me out to see Warm Bodies. We’d sort of half been planning this date for a while; namely, when I went to see The Hobbit with him and our friend Darcy (and was a GREAT date by NOT falling asleep and drooling on his shoulder, because I’m ladylike) and we saw the trailer and he half-asked me if I wanted to go because, like The Hobbit, he didn’t think his wife would be interested. That’s me, the Movie Mistress.
I was strangely nervous, partially because I could tell he was a little skittish about being seen out with me (and rumors starting that he was stepping out on his wife) and partially because I think Rachel is one of the most awesome people in the entire world, and if I somehow acted like a goober, it would get back to her and she wouldn’t like me anymore, which would be a mega-drag. Not being liked by Rachel and Dave is one of my biggest fears. It might be my biggest fear, actually, because I think they’re both so cool, and I’m sort of surprised they let me hang out with them, because I am a dork.
A little bit about Dave. I like Dave a lot. He smiles out of the corner of his mouth like Han Solo, and he laughs at my jokes, and he has a very sharp, dry sense of humor that I dig. He’s a great husband and a great dad, and I think that’s what I like best about him. (See also: he laughs at my jokes.)
He picked me up at 8:15 in his wife’s car and immediately handed me his iPhone. “You pick the tunes,” he said, already starting the date off on an awesome foot. I picked the soundtrack to Les Mis, partially because I’d been making fun of him about it for a few days and partially because I was afraid of the touchscreen. He rolled his eyes and laughed and sneered, “Oh shut up” and then I laughed.
It also marked the first time I was taller than my date. My wedges propped me up so I was just slightly above him. He took it well.
He bought us Cokes and a Lindt chocolate bar, the movie was free and there was free freshly-popped popcorn. “You’re a cheap date,” he said in a way that made me feel like a million bucks.
The movie was passable, but we both made fun of it for MST3K bonus points.
Afterwards, he took me out for a beer at the same bar he and his guy friends go to, which also made me feel cool. He was treating me like one of the guys instead of some delicate hot-house blossom, which is exactly how the husband of my best gal-pal should treat me. We talked local politics, we made each other laugh, and around midnight, we both realized that we had to get up early for the exact same Mystery Train performance in the morning and said goodnight. No hug, no kiss on the cheek, just “Catch ya later.”
There was no expectation, no weird tension, no performance on either of our parts. We went out as two friends, we watched a cheesy movie and drank delicious beer in an empty bar with “Shipping Up to Boston” playing on the jukebox (not our choice). It was one of the most fun evenings I’ve had in awhile.
Platonic relationships are undeniably no pressure. Ironically placing many into The Friend Zone, of which I personally seem doomed for eternity….
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