i'm always wondering how i get myself into these situations, why i'm to nice, no... too timid to fight my way out, why i keep expecting a different outcome. perhaps i am definitively crazy.
he buys the popcorn and this gesture immediately puts him in the top 50% of all dates i've ever been on. unfortunately, this is neither a braggable nor stunning victory.
he asks about the scar on my forearm. it is a skinny but jagged scar, starting at my elbow and spiraling halfway down my arm. before i get five words out, he's lifting up his shirt and giving an explanation of his own scar, telling me what a badass motorcycle accident it was, turning left and right so i can see its majesty from every angle.
the movie has explosions and women, and i volunteer to get a refill, checking every exit and praying for a fire drill.
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