He is talking to his friends.
“Yeah, we went to see a movie.”
We didn’t know what to say to each other, so we went somewhere we wouldn’t have to talk. Or even look each other in the eye. I’m bad at making conversation when I don’t know someone very well. Even when I do know someone well, I feel this hot pressure whenever I can’t think of what I should say next. So, yeah. Movies are safe. You’re not supposed to talk.
“It was fun. I enjoyed it.”
It wasn’t a very good movie. Honestly, it was one of those movies that’s just candy: you watch it, and it tastes good for a minute, and maybe you get some enjoyment out of it, but afterward you wonder, was that even really worth the money I spent? What did I get out of that?
“He said he liked it. I think it was a good choice.”
You suggested it to me, so I can’t really tell you that no, I’m not sure that he liked it. I couldn’t tell if he didn’t like it and didn’t want to tell me, or if he might have liked it but he was too nervous to appreciate it because he was on a date, or of he liked the movie but he didn’t like that he saw it with me.
“Haha, no. We didn’t make out. We didn’t even hold hands.”
Are you kidding? I’m going to laugh this off but I really just want to tell you how irritated I am that you would ask that. Yes, I know you’re joking, but you make way too many jokes about how gay guys rush into the physical side of a relationship. Besides, have you ever thought about how uncomfortable it is to be gay? I can’t do that stuff in a movie theater! I mean, yes, physically, I can, but I just can’t. Especially not in this town. The thought scares me.
“We had Mexican. I let him pick.”
Please don’t make a race joke again.
“No, I like alright. It’s just not my favorite.”
Please don’t make a race joke. It has nothing to do with that. I just don’t like some of the spices.
“Awkward? No, not really.”
I mean, maybe a little bit. I feel like maybe we did things in the wrong order. Like, maybe we should have gone to dinner first and tried to get to know one another before we sat in silence next to each other for two hours. But then again, that silence was time without pressure, so it made opening up at dinner easier. I don’t know. The situation wasn’t awkward. I’m awkward. It’s always me, not the circumstance.
“No. We did not have sex after. I just told we we didn’t even hold hands.”
I guess I should have just laughed that off and made a joke about not wanting to risk sex after Mexican food, but that’s not fair to the food and, honestly, why are you so focused on how far we got physically? You haven’t even asked what he’s like. You haven’t asked what we have in common or what he likes to do or what he does for a living.
“What? Yeah, I think it went well.”
I mean it wasn’t great but just because we didn’t have sex doesn’t mean I’m not interested in him. I feel like you don’t even know who I am, from these questions. They’re the same questions you ask every time. It’s like you don’t know what to ask or like maybe you don’t really care, even.
“We’ve been texting. I think we’re going out again tomorrow. Just dinner, this time.”
I’ve texted him more in the last 24 hours than I’ve texted any of you in the last week. I can’t tell you that. It would hurt your feelings. It’s nice to have someone new to talk to, someone who asks questions that none of you have asked for years. I mean, yes, I know you care about me, and my anxiety keeps telling me that maybe he doesn’t and he’s just being polite and he’s too good of a person to just blow me off… but still. It’s nice.
He is talking to his friends but he is hardly saying anything.