Date: Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Last night I had a date with Julia. After the week’s events I didn’t think it would be possible. We had barely been messaging one another and when I saw her last Tuesday, we seemed pretty cold to one another. On Saturday, I was supposed to go to a bar with her and her friends. But after hiking the Baden Powell that morning – a five hour hike – I was feeling pretty tired. That night, Claire, a mutual friend, tried to hype me up since I wasn’t feeling up to it. She was saying that Julia was feeling pretty wasted and my lips would reap the rewards. I didn’t like that she said that. It made me feel like a one dimensional guy who was only after the poon-tang. I am all about the sweet puss but that she called me out on it made me feel shallow. It also made me feel like a piece of steak that was ripe to be eaten, like I should be desperate for that shit. I’m not. Evan and I got to the bar and there was a line up. It was a cold night. Who the fuck creates a line up for a bar? The bar wasn’t even full. There was even  a “guestlist”. What kind of poser-wannabe bar does that shit? Not only that, there was a cover charge of $10 to boot. My misgivings about going were echoed in Evan’s wingeing. We were already in line so I may as well have went with it. Evan thought otherwise. In the end, I gave in to his complaints and my own apprehension. Upon leaving, I felt like a terrible bitch-ass. Julia seemed pissed through her texts so I dropped it. Claire kept trying to persuade me to return but I wanted no part. Evan felt like he was the reason why we left. It was beginning to feel like drama central.

Luckily, yesterday I asked Julia out for coffee on a whim. When I called her, she didn’t seem sour about Saturday night. Bonus. So yesterday, Monday, and before seeing Julia, I spent the afternoon kicking it with Evan. We browsed in the Vancouver Public Library; all the while talking shit. We also decided on a gangster-as-fuck handshake. It was a mixture of Troy and Abed’s mixed in with Fresh Prince and Jazzy Jeff’s. I spent a couple hours dicking around with Evan since I was to meet Julia at 5PM. My nerves were understandably in disarray. The coffee and conversation with Evan helped ease them. Evan and I said our goodbyes with the new handshake and Julia immediately showed up. Shame she missed our bad-ass handshake.

We started our date at Starbucks and it was really easy talking to her. Admittedly, the entire conversation long, I wanted to jump her. She was looking exceptionally stunning. I restrained myself though. We waxed on about our pasts and future ambitions. We shot the shit on how ridiculous society was. She was looking incredibly cute. She commented on how I looked like a hipster. After talking for a solid two hours, we decided to grab a bite. We’re both pretty poor so we decided on the Famous Warehouse, where everything served is $4.95 and under. She told me about an isolated location – not the ridiculously jammed packed one on Granville St. – and we headed in that direction on foot. While we continued talking, I thought about holding her hand. Ultimately I pussied out; maybe for the best. We got lost on the way to dinner because I told her to not googlemap the place; we would try to find it on our own just by wandering. On our trek, we happened upon a medieval store that was offering broad sword, rapier and jousting lessons. We immediately entered because swords are awesome. Inside, an overzealous sword master tried to convince us to join their classes. We only wanted to watch some sword fights. As we watched, I realized how dorky the people were; full of LARP-fags and D&D enthusiasts. I shouldn’t hate though; I wish I was as passionate about anything as they were about their craft. We left and soon found the alternate Famous Warehouse location. It was pretty quiet inside. I felt comfortable with her. I ordered the Chicken Caesar Wrap with a side of salad. She got the Beef Dip with a side of fries. She commented on the femininity of my order. I laughed. As we ate, she had somehow gotten a piece of food on her jawline. I didn’t want to embarrass her by wiping it away so I tried my best not to stare at it too hard. In talking to her, I learned she hated anything that had to do with tomatoes, even pasta sauce. That was disappointing to hear because one of the few things I could cook is a mean penne pasta. During the meal, I had the chance to subtly study her face, or at least I hope it was subtle. She has a cute button-nose and fantastically shaped eyes; it must be her half-Asian genes. She has full lips with which she tries to cover her toothy smile. On her lips she has a small piercing. Hot. Her skin is fair and I imagine it freckles with enough sun. The way that she moves her hair from her face gives it an air of sexuality. This is kinda creepy now that I think about it. Fuck it. I’m an observant mother fucker. In the end, both our meals totalled $15. I had recently been having an inner debate about gender equality and ‘paying for dinner’ was this grey area where, even though I’d be willing to pay for the full meal, it would be cool if I somehow got her to pay for half. In the past, with other girls, I always paid for everything. And when I say everything, I mean e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. As I went to pay for the meal, she threw a fiver my way. I am in no position to reject it. She didn’t seem phased. Before leaving the dive, she freshened up in the little girl’s room and I noticed that the food on her jawline was gone.

After dinner, we walked some more. I wanted to hold her hand but again, I resisted (read: chickened out). I gave her some halls, because I didn’t have any mint candy or gum. She commented on how it made her feel even colder. On Hastings St., we passed the Church of Scientology. I said that we should go in. We both felt that the church was ridiculous. She said that she would feel bad for going in and making them feel like we were deriding them. I sorta agreed but I was in a mischievous mood. Instead we stood outside the church entrance, to see how long it would take for someone to come out and try to recruit us. At the entrance there was this video montage put together that would put lesser people in a trance. We are not lesser people. No one came through the transparent doors, despite giving Julia and I many puzzling looks. We went on to walk along Coal Harbour on Waterfront and it was surprisingly isolated. The night was beautiful despite a light shower and a brisk breeze. North Vancouver lighting the dark night across the Vancouver Harbour would be a great backdrop to share a first kiss so I pulled her in. I didn’t feel much electricity between us but I knew I wanted to kiss her. I don’t know how she felt. I couldn’t read her expression. I want to say that she was smiling coyly but I was too giddy to realize. I held her close and I asked her if she was still feeling cold. She said no. Her answer made me more hesitant that I would have liked to have been. I slowly moved in to kiss her. I felt like I wanted to nuzzle her instead. I went through with the kiss and she responded in kind. We kissed in front of the water, the stars, the sky, the wind, the rain drops and the mountain. It was very Vancouver. Her kisses were soft. I didn’t feel her piercing on my lips. The kiss did not feel synchronized. I think our kissing patterns are different. That could be solved with practice though, which I imagine would be fun. I didn’t want to betray any signs of over-eagerness so I left my hands on the small of her back. Her hands rested against my arms. It was cozy. Afterwards, I held her and looked into her eyes, to gauge her expression. My own thoughts clouded my mind so I still couldn’t read her. I think we were both smiling. I honestly don’t remember. I think she was in the same state, because as we stared at each other she asked me what I was looking at. I didn’t know. I told her I was just feeling giddy. The rain picked up and we went looking for an awning. Though at the time, I couldn’t think straight and I called it an eavesdrop, and in trying to correct myself I called it an overhead. For some reason, my French was coming out. I said, “Il pleut.” instead of it’s raining. Luckily she understood. Beneath the awning, as I sat and she stood, I held her again. She held my head as I held her at her waist. I wanted her near and she went along with it. She said my head smelled nice. I asked, “Like what?” She just said that I smelled like something nice. With my head at chest level, I said that her chest smelled nice. “My boobs?” she said. “Yes,” I said, “your boobs smell like boobs.”

We kissed some more. And walked some more. We found ourselves at the Anglican Cathedral on Burrard and Georgia. I was still feeling mischievous so I offered that we break into the church and make out there. She was for it. We couldn’t break in though. We walked more and found ourselves in front of the ritzy Georgia Hotel. I suggested we make out in front of the old rich people eating along the window. She was not for it. I picked her up in rebellion. She was a lot lighter than I thought. She said I was a lot stronger than she thought. We walked further and we found ourselves on Granville St.. We stopped at another awning and I suggested we busk. We tried rapping but I guess we didn’t look poor enough to have change thrown at us. We kissed some more but she said that my scruffy stache tickled her. It made me self-conscious because these whiskers that I’ve been growing for “Movember” are pubescent at best.

Time flew and the temperature was ever dropping. We took the same train home. While sitting, I put my palm face up on her leg. She surrendered her hand to mine. Her hands were cute and decked in rings. My French was showing again when I asked her if she “ported” many rings often.

My stop came and I kissed her goodbye.

Tonight, I’m supposed to see her again, since it’s Dodgeball Tuesday. I’m not sure how to act with her with all our other friends there. I feel like I should definitely kiss her. But I also feel like it shouldn’t be an exhibit for every one of our friends to gawk at.

We’ll see what happens though.

And with that, I’ve procrastinated writing yet another paper. Back to the books.