Atticus: The First Date

Atticus posts are hard for me to write.  It wasn't a good or healthy relationship, and I cringe when I think of what he did, the things I put up with, even his name.  Sorry it's taken so long to follow up the How we met story, but here it is!



Atticus called.  I was a friend's apartment and nervously giggled my way through the phone call.  He pointed out how much I laughed.  I was embarrassed; I could help it!  We set a date and time for our coffee date.  I picked the location, as he asked me to do, and I could tell from the tone in his voice that he was less than thrilled with it.  He insisted, however, that we visit the place I wanted.  When Date Day finally arrived, I spent the early part of the day at the mall with my friend, building up nerves and killing time before I met him at a coffee and tea shop downtown.

When the time came, I walked into the small shop and there he was, reading a Thomas Pynchon novel.  (To this day I can't look at a Pynchon novel without thinking of Atticus.)  I almost didn't recognize him without the heavy layers of jackets and hats he had worn when we met.  He bought me a coffee and one for himself, and we sat and chatted about ourselves a bit.  I made sure to embarrass myself completely by making a sarcastic, offhand remark that I spoke Spanglish.  I had taken Spanish throughout school, and often would, and still do, insert Spanish words into my speech.  After I made that comment, he cocked his head to the side a bit and said, "Well, I speak Spanish fluently."

He was from Central America.

I felt like an ASS for having said anything.  I thought I was being funny and witty but I was just putting my foot into my poor mouth.

We talked a little bit more - what I was studying, how old he was (a full decade older than I), and what he did.  Atticus was very touchy-feely on this date. I was not, and thought it weird to be so forward so fast, but I was certain that I was abnormal in some way and so I let him put his hand on my knee and then my thigh.  Next, he leaned in to kiss me.  I instinctively pulled away from him, as far as I could.  He said, "You're so naive" and then smiled.  I wanted to say, "What, I'm naive just because I don't want to kiss you?" but I didn't.  I didn't want to be rude.

After finishing our coffee, we walked around downtown and he pulled me aside at every alley way to plant a kiss on me, or makeout for a bit, or stare longingly into my eyes.  I went along with it - that's what normal girls do, right? - and at the end of the date I told him I'd go out with him again.

And so, I did.

How I met . . . Atticus

It was the first time I'd ever been to the theatre alone.  It intimidated me, not having anyone to go and discuss with me the dialogue, the set, the costuming; differences between Shaw and Wilde.  No, it was the first time I'd gone alone, and looking back perhaps it was meant to happen that way.  The bestie and her mother were set to join me, then just the bestie, but at the last minute she couldn't make it either.  There I was - blonde bob, black button-up, and awkwardly-stiff black Anthropologie skirt - sitting and waiting a little impatiently for the doors to open when he approached.

He was a little taller than I was, with dark hair and a tanned complexion. We chatted pleasantly, about the school and the theatre program.  He was an alumnus of both and was surprised to find out I was still an undergrad there.  I was much younger than he expected, he said, but he'd love to take me out for coffee sometime.  The conversation continued and he spoke more about his job teaching theatre at one of the alternative high schools in town.  In fact, he told me, he was on a theatre field trip with his students right now!  I looked across the lobby in the direction he pointed and saw approximately 10-15 high-school-aged kids all sitting around on benches, waiting for the show.  Awkward! I thought, Is he only talking to me on a dare from the students? It was a horrible thing to think, but I couldn’t help it.  As the conversation continued, the offer for coffee turned into an offer for dinner, perhaps Sushi? Once the doors to the show opened, he stood up, with my number in hand, and made his way back across the lobby to his pupils.

I didn't know how to feel.  On the one hand, I couldn't believe that a guy - a real guy! - was talking to me!!  On the other, he was hitting on me during a field trip - wasn't that a little weird? I was amused, and suddenly smitten.

At the intermission, he came over to my seat to talk to me about the stage and costumes, and he seemed noticeably uncomfortable.  He told me that he thought I was not there alone, as I'd previously told him I was, and that instead I was with the young gentlemen who'd been seated to my right.  Atticus relaxed when I told him that no, I was not with the gentleman to my right.  At the end of the intermission and our awkward chat, he retreated back to his student group.  After the show, I wanted to talk to him, but he left the building offering the line of students behind him the use of his cell phone to call their parents.

I went back to my bestie's apartment and shared the news of what just happened.  I'd been hit on! I was excited!  I couldn't think of the last time a guy was interested in me, and I couldn't wait for him to call so I could see him again.  I was absolutely convinced that this was my last chance at finding love.  I was halfway through my undergraduate years, and this was the first time I'd ever been asked out.  SURELY this was it, my last chance to find a man.  I was over the moon – and incredibly anxious and nervous.  What would happen next?