Oh, so underhanded

August 30, 2010
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So, there’s this guy I dated, who happened to be a bit too old for my dad’s liking. Infact, most guys aren’t quite to my dad’s liking, so it didn’t really phase me. Now this guy, Luke, is the very punk rock type; he’s sarcastic yet serious, concerns himself only with what matters to him. He seems to tower over you, not physically, but mentally: he acts as if he knows more than you, although that often times may not be the case.

I was thirteen when Luke and I “dated”. Dating in this sense didn’t involve too much hanging out, since it happened to be secret. We did get past this small factor however; most of my class time was spent writing notes to him about how Mrs. Rabliotti kept sneezing all over Ryan, or how Luke’s ex Brooke kept giving me the stare down at lunch. We were in our own little world, our passages kept us connected as the poetic feel of secrecy drew us closer. However, with each passageway we built to one and other, the brick wall separating us grew stronger and stronger; classes, teachers, and my dad’s constant phone checks slowly drew us out of our dreamscape.

Ironically, the brick wall that so separated us most of the time actually guarded our hiding spot during recess, our single alone time in the school day. We hid from our peers, none of whom either of us related to whatsoever compared to each other, also from the teachers and adults that could steal our secret whenever they pleased. It was here that we exchanged our daily notes, each day still surprised and excited about what bits of useless information the other had to provide today.

One day I received a slip of notebook paper from him at lunch time with a new message, the grey-charcoal pencil told me something new: that something had to be done about our vanishing time spent together. We decided we would try out going to the movies, sneaking no less.

Now, a girl’s night out sounded great, to my parents at least. My best friend Mary was totally willing to cover for Luke and my first real date, discounting recess. This was my first of many schemes to come, my first escape from the pink bedroom I knew as a cage while on the phone each night with Luke. The mystery and anxiety about if our plan would actually work made it all the more exciting.

After a ton of primping and nail polishing, my mom drove me over to the Monaca Cinema, complaining the whole time about the distance to the theatre, of course. I practically had to coax her into not walking in, telling her that I could buy my ticket to Disturbia on my own and that Mary was waiting in the theatre. As soon as my mom’s Ford Explorer was out of sight, Luke came behind me and swept me up, despite his noodle arms, practically carrying me into the building. Finally, I was to be the girl that others envied, with the awesome boyfriend who buys her a ticket and food at the theatre. Victory smelled sweetly of old popcorn and nacho cheese.

We took our seats, laughing with each other about the fact that everyone else in the theatre was buying our disguise as a couple experienced at this date stuff. Our inside joke carried on throughout the movie, until the awkward pressure to play the part and hold hands settled in. As I said, we were no good at the couple stuff. So Luke finally decided to man up and take action, in all the wrong ways that your first hand clasp should be. He decided to take the gentleman role and ask me, yes ask me, to hold hands. The worst part though, was that I didn’t hear him, and made him ask three times! That was Karma kicking in, I knew it.

So we survived the rest of the movie after the trip up, the pressure disappeared as we both took in our accomplishments. Baby steps. Walking out of our adventure, hand in hand, I realized I had but one task left to make our night a success: don’t get caught. As if God was feeling bad for the awkward hand-holding mishap, he made it rain outside in the cool November air, the perfect distraction. Slipping out of the theatre while “Mary” waited in the dry building for her dad was a simple task, not too much lying required. I wasn’t too smooth with my bluffs just yet and the butterflies in my stomach constantly kicked into gear with every lie. I spent the whole ride home with my hand out the window, washing away the tingling feeling left over from that of my boyfriend. My first covert date: mission completed.





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