Creativity Sunday - Passive-Aggressive Speed Dating
It was the worst idea. Someone really should have written them a note beforehand to tell them so. But it was done, there were posters and everything with the tagline "What use are feelings if you can't have them at people?" emblazoned on them. Jake couldn't quite shake the feeling that they'd gotten "passive-aggressive" and "robot" confused a little bit, but regardless, people had somehow showed up. They appreciated the irony, or possibly the honesty, or something. It probably helped that it had also been billed as "a potential sexual rodeo for broken people" (which frankly to Jake just sounded dangerous, but never mind). The whole thing seemed like it was devised by and for people about one step away from crying into their drinks, and so promised a good mix of both that and people who wanted to see that happening. Jake wasn't actually sure which category he fell into himself, but it was enough to get him to come along anyway.
The first girl was wearing a cap with a propeller on the top. Jake helpfully stared directly at it for virtually their entire allotted time, while she helpfully never mentioned it. Regardless of everything else, Jake thought as she got up to leave, things had certainly started out well for the theme.
The second girl came from the internet. She talked about the IRC channel she moderated, joked about how he might have to go home and put on my robe and wizard hat. It was actually quite endearing, just unfortunate that he completely failed to find her attractive. Still, he did at least get a chance to use the phrase "sexual rumspringa" on what was technically a date, which, although it hadn't technically been a goal of his in the past, really probably should have been.
The third girl was different. "If you're one in a million", she opened with, "literally, one in a million, then there are about 7,000 people just like you across the world. That's about as many people as you can expect to get to know throughout your life, every single one of them exactly as unique as you are in whatever way you want to imagine."
It was quite the opener, in that it left the conversation wide open for several moments as Jake tried to formulate a response. "So, how does that help?" he tried.
She shrugged. "Just think, whenever you think like you're alone, like the only one who's ever thought or done something, who feels a certain way or is suffering through a certain something, well, at the very least there's got to be about 7,000 people somewhere doing the exact same thing."
Jake raised an eyebrow. That sounded like the sort of thing that Made You Think, which as a rule he tried to avoid. He thought more than enough already.
The girl noticed his expression, and, thankfully, answered for him. "Shit, sorry. I was aiming for interesting, and I think I shot straight into weird." She smiled, clearly flustered but still somehow somewhat at ease. "Fuck it, let's just dive in then. Here's the pitch: I want to self-destruct. I want to go balls-out, I want to do Things - capital "T" there - I want to find someone to spiral into and only come apart in a glorious explosion. I want to make out in the rain and fight in the car; I promise to be desperately bad for you in the long term, but so fucking good in the short. I want to yell 'Damn the torpedoes!' and mean it. I want to read Tolstoy and do anal, I want to cry someone else to sleep. I want, I want, I want."
Jake looked. She was cute. She'd spoken in a surprisingly measured tone; it was no breathless tirade, but a quiet and amicable offer, finished with another self-effacing shrug. Come with me, and I'll fuck up your life. Promise. And you might just love it.
"Um" Jake answered. He was desperately aware that his next words here mattered more than anything he'd said for quite some time. It was just a matter of getting to them. Finally he found himself saying "technically, that's more manic-depressive speed dating, isn't it? Not really in theme." If it had been possible for his brain to wince its way out through his skull it would have done so the instant he heard his own response.
The girl leaned forwards and placed a hand on one of his. "I can write it all on a note and leave that behind for you, if you prefer." Jake, quite honestly, in that moment, did not know what he preferred.
And then from somewhere else, the bell rang. And he did.
The first girl was wearing a cap with a propeller on the top. Jake helpfully stared directly at it for virtually their entire allotted time, while she helpfully never mentioned it. Regardless of everything else, Jake thought as she got up to leave, things had certainly started out well for the theme.
The second girl came from the internet. She talked about the IRC channel she moderated, joked about how he might have to go home and put on my robe and wizard hat. It was actually quite endearing, just unfortunate that he completely failed to find her attractive. Still, he did at least get a chance to use the phrase "sexual rumspringa" on what was technically a date, which, although it hadn't technically been a goal of his in the past, really probably should have been.
The third girl was different. "If you're one in a million", she opened with, "literally, one in a million, then there are about 7,000 people just like you across the world. That's about as many people as you can expect to get to know throughout your life, every single one of them exactly as unique as you are in whatever way you want to imagine."
It was quite the opener, in that it left the conversation wide open for several moments as Jake tried to formulate a response. "So, how does that help?" he tried.
She shrugged. "Just think, whenever you think like you're alone, like the only one who's ever thought or done something, who feels a certain way or is suffering through a certain something, well, at the very least there's got to be about 7,000 people somewhere doing the exact same thing."
Jake raised an eyebrow. That sounded like the sort of thing that Made You Think, which as a rule he tried to avoid. He thought more than enough already.
The girl noticed his expression, and, thankfully, answered for him. "Shit, sorry. I was aiming for interesting, and I think I shot straight into weird." She smiled, clearly flustered but still somehow somewhat at ease. "Fuck it, let's just dive in then. Here's the pitch: I want to self-destruct. I want to go balls-out, I want to do Things - capital "T" there - I want to find someone to spiral into and only come apart in a glorious explosion. I want to make out in the rain and fight in the car; I promise to be desperately bad for you in the long term, but so fucking good in the short. I want to yell 'Damn the torpedoes!' and mean it. I want to read Tolstoy and do anal, I want to cry someone else to sleep. I want, I want, I want."
Jake looked. She was cute. She'd spoken in a surprisingly measured tone; it was no breathless tirade, but a quiet and amicable offer, finished with another self-effacing shrug. Come with me, and I'll fuck up your life. Promise. And you might just love it.
"Um" Jake answered. He was desperately aware that his next words here mattered more than anything he'd said for quite some time. It was just a matter of getting to them. Finally he found himself saying "technically, that's more manic-depressive speed dating, isn't it? Not really in theme." If it had been possible for his brain to wince its way out through his skull it would have done so the instant he heard his own response.
The girl leaned forwards and placed a hand on one of his. "I can write it all on a note and leave that behind for you, if you prefer." Jake, quite honestly, in that moment, did not know what he preferred.
And then from somewhere else, the bell rang. And he did.