it's long, but it's comical. promise.
this is what i was told he looked like.
truth be told, between the recommendation from the co-worker and this picture, i was looking forward to it.
to set the stage, co-worker's wife's cousin lived in montana. but co-worker told me a 3rd hand rumor that the wife's cousin was coming to salt lake... helping a friend start a business... and that's all we knew. still... hopeful.
so, we talked on the phone... multiple hours... couple of times. got some disappointing hints here or there over the phone {reserve judgement, please. it has already been established that my bar is high.} the boy was not moving to salt lake from montana. just came every 4 weeks to GET HIS BRACES TIGHTENED. his relocation already took place from small town, montana to freaking small town, idaho {mud lake, id to be exact. pop. 270}. he never went to college... worked in a particle board factory until he got antsy enough for a change, and that's when he moved to mud lake to help a friend renovate the local grocery store.
tiny red flags, but i had faith. faith that my co-worker wouldn't really set me up for such failure, and faith that looks could conquer all.
so, date night.
i had a plan. my clothes didn't really match. it was a test. could he handle a little funk? was he too small town for me?
boy comes to the door... and, geesh, i had nothing to worry about in the matchy matchy department. picture this:
baby blue rayon/combo-of-all-possible-synthetic fabrics button down.
jeans. maybe they were from old navy - circa 1994 - and may have had a carpenter's hammer loop.
vans. like, the vans boys wore in 9th grade. again, circa 1994. maybe even the airwalk knock-offs. black and camo green suede. white soles. floppy laces.
my height.
not the boy pictured above. no way.
whatever. so much for looks conquering all. maybe he was nice.
get into his car. a white jetta. the one my roommate just bought. the one 16 year old girls are getting for their birthdays these days.
i climb in. he clears loads of stuff off the passenger's seat. puts it in the back... next to the little giant ladder that's taking up most of the back seat. i get tangled in a web of wires... between the cd/tape adapter and the cop radar machine suctioned to the windshield.
boy has an ice cold 1-liter bottle of pepsi in the cup holder. he cracks it open as we pull out of the driveway. he must have stopped by maverik his way to my house.
whatever, whatever, whatever. i'm already speechless.
dinner.
california pizza kitchen. he orders some fishy pasta dish. i order a pizza. he's endlessly fanscinated with conversation about my college experience and the job that i love. maybe because he has neither.
whatever.
when i asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, he says, "rich." i ask him how he wants to get rich, he says he doesn't know.
we talk about the grocery store in mud lake. it's a regular old construction job now... but i ask, "come grand opening time, what will you do?"
"they {his friends, the owners} are going to let me stay on!" {yup - the most excited i've seen him all night}. i ask him what he's going to do and he says...
"well, it's a small store... so i'll have to do everything, really. cashier, bagger, clean up... i even had to take a special class to learn how to cut meat."
i'm speechless. a meat cutter. i think he earned a merit badge for that.
onto part ii. the planetarium.
we walk in. take a look around. i see the giant planets suspended from the ceiling and say, "oh, wow... this is like a review of fifth grade."
he says, "hmm. i don't really remember this in fifth grade."
oy.
onto the imax theater. got tickets to the show about the alps. we sit in the back row. the movie hasn't started yet, but he's already gone silent. maybe he's got incredible movie manners. the lights go out - the opening credits roll... and he leans forward in his seat, puts his hands over his face, and sighs. weird. but, whatever. whatever for the 649th time that night.
five minutes later, he makes some writhing-in-pain action. i ask if he's alright. he says it's something he ate. i ask if he wants to go home. he says no.
ten minutes later, he's still wiggling in his seat. trying to act natural isn't working so well, so i remind him that, although we haven't seen even half of the movie, we know how the movie ends... the guy makes it up the mountain... and we can leave. he says no.
i make a mental note. the next move he makes, i'm grabbing my bag and we're going home. two minutes go by before his head is between his knees. we're out the door.
he tells me he hasn't felt that sick since he was a kid. i thought he was going to puke on me.
silence on the car ride home... except for the occassional "are you okay?" or "are you going to make it?" or the "sorry i don't know how to drive a stick... otherwise, i'd drive and you could sleep in the back with your little giant."
we pull into the driveway {we made it! home at last!}. i worry... the goodbye scene is inevitable.
luckily, it went like this:
boy: {puts the car in park and rests his head against the headrest} "thanks for going out with me."
me: "thanks for dinner and half a movie." {and immediately exit the car and walks inside.}
i expected a text, a call, something apologetic-like, but by monday... nothing.
and never to be heard of again.
didn't even show up to the family reunion this year, according to co-worker.
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