I pull some microwave popcorn out of the cabinet and pop it in. It’s not so much that I’m really that in the mood for popcorn, but I would like an excuse for taking so long.
“What do you want to watch?” Will asks from the other room.
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Something light,” he says. “Something funny.”
“Sounds good,” I answer. “Check the bottom two shelves. That’s where I keep most of the American movies.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I see you’re really into foreign films.”
“Uh huh,” I answer, and I hope he doesn’t hear the annoyance in my voice.
Why am I so annoyed?
The microwave beeps and I burn my hands in the steam, pulling the popcorn out of it.
“Fuck!”
“You all right in there?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “Popcorn’s hot. I’m fine.”
“Need some help in there?”
I’m bombing the crap out of this date.
I finally get the popcorn into an oversized bowl and make my way out to the living room.
“How about When Harry Met Sally,” he says. “I haven’t seen it in—what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’ll be right back.”
It’s not my brightest moment, but I quickly set the popcorn on the coffee table and I’m running to the bathroom.
My stomach seemed to be doing okay right up until he held up When Harry Met Sally.
I try to be quiet, but of course, I’m not.
After a minute, there’s a knock on the door.
“Are you okay in there?” Will asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “Sorry, I guess I did overdo it on that shot, but I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”
“Maybe tonight’s not such a good night,” he says, and I feel like an idiot.
I don’t know what to say to him, so I don’t say anything. I just lie here on the floor and start to cry.
He knocks again, asking, “Are you all right? Do you need some water or anything?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, wiping my eyes with absolutely no lasting result. “I’m fine. I’ll be right out.”
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll stay until I know you’re going to be okay.”
Humiliation meets even more humiliation.
This isn’t how it was supposed to work out.