Sunday, February 08, 2004
Five movies in 24 hours with Kate is a lot
Of course, it's the other stuff that's exhausting.
I met up with her at about 9:30 last night, in front of the theater. We were able to get seats in the front row, which isn't bad at all in the Coolidge's upstairs theater - there's a stage so that you're not sitting three feet away and the screen's not so high that you're craning your neck. There was a little mistake where the projectionist started playing the wrong movie (The Company is sharing a screen with The Triplets Of Belleville), but that got fixed right away.
Because of that, though, there wasn't much time for Kate to hem and haw about whether she wanted to stay for the Midnight Kung Fu Madness show. She actually gave in, though, and we stayed for Haunted Cop Shop 2. It was pretty obvious that this movie just isn't her thing, which is cool, but she was laughing anyway. She wasn't fooling me, though, and I told her as we were leaving the theater that she didn't have to pretend to like it. She brushed it off, saying don't be ridiculous, until she saw the clock in the theater lobby and realized it was 1:40am, and the subway/trolley doesn't run after about 12:30. I told her not to worry, that there were Night Owl buses that ran along the same routes, but she evidently won't take the bus. I don't see how it's worse than the train, but she's not the only one with that attitude, so I've stopped questioning it. I told her she could either get a cab or crash at my place; to my surprise she chose the latter - "I'll just be heading out this way for the Sunday morning show at the Brattle anyway".
It only takes fifteen minutes to walk from the Coolidge to my apartment, but it was really cold last night, so it wasn't much fun and we didn't talk much with our scarves wrapped around our faces. When we got inside, finally, I asked her what she really thought of the movies.
"Well, I really liked The Company, but some of those injuries made me really glad I decided not to pursue ballet when I was 14."
"You wanted to be a ballerina?"
She took her toothbrush out of her mouth (she's prepared for everything - I don't carry one of those in my purse), spat, and looked at me skeptically. "Like you never wanted to."
"Do I look like I have the body for it?"
"You've got me on that one, but I was talking about before you got boobs - come on, every girl goes through an I-wanna-be-a-ballerina phase when she's little."
"Not me." Never having been a four-year-old girl may have something to do with that.
"So it must have bored you silly."
"Not really. I mean, you can sort of look at it as a sports movie - competition for roster spots, the new kid getting a chance when the veteran is injured, that sort of thing. And... someone I knew is apparently really into it." I snorted, thinking of "Martin" and Natalya out in Seattle. "Met his current girlfriend at a ballet, in fact."
"Oooh, that sounds ugly. Do tell."
"Not much to say. I mean, it was after we... split, he was on the other side of the country. I only found out because she's evidently loaded and a picture showed up on the internet."
"That's just weird - not just the finding out your ex is seeing someone else by seeing a picture on the internet, but you going for a guy who likes ballet. Don't get me wrong, you're smart and everything, but dance so doesn't seem to be your thing."
"Martin and I were both different people back then, like you wouldn't believe."
"Must be nice."
"What do you mean?"
"Being able to say you were a different person. I mean, I want to be a different person, but I've been just the same as long as I can remember."
"Why would you want to be a different person? You're awesome. I would be all over you if I were a guy."
She laughed. "Easy for you to say, since the possibility is just science fiction. In the real world, I wish I were more like you. That was half the point of going to the kung fu thing tonight, just to see what you got out of it. Because, you know, it's not just your body that guys like about you. You're fun and can talk to them about the things that they like, and I just come off as this snob, and I know I'm a snob, and I don't want to be a snob but it's like I can't stop."
The idea of Kate wanting to be like me was just silly, but I didn't laugh. "You're not a snob. A snob wouldn't hang out with the secretary, OK? You've just got high standards, and that's cool. Come on, it's almost two-thirty and we're talking silly. Let's get some sleep; I'll set the alarm so we can get coffee into us before the movie, OK?"
There followed the usual "I'm not taking your bed"/"I'm not sticking you on the couch" argument, leading to us sharing the bed. I worried a bit, remembering how that went down last time. In retrospect, that's funny.
Because when the alarm went off at nine o'clock, Kate had her arm around me, and she had a pretty good grip on one of my breasts. And the alarm woke us both up at the same time, leaving no time for face saving. We both sort of jumped out of bed - opposite sides, natch.
"Look, Kate, if I did anything to lead you on - I mean, I've been acting weird, with the whole phantom smell, and then being all nympho with Carter on Friday--"
"No, it was all my fault."
"Don't say it's your fault like you're to blame for something - I mean, we're both dressed just like we were when we hit the sack, so it's not like anything happened or it would be awful if anything did..."
That sort of hung in the air as we looked at each other. Finally, Kate said she couldn't talk about this without coffee, which made perfect sense. Unfortunately, I didn't have any in the apartment, and it was going to take us twenty minutes to get to the theater after we washed and dressed, so we didn't actually have time to talk about it until after the movie.
Her explanation was straightforward, if eccentric: "I have a teddy bear."
"I've got this four-foot-tall, soft, teddy bear on my bed. How pathetic is that? I'm 28 years old, two of my younger siblings have already gotten married, I've got a nephew on the way, and I still sleep with this big stuffed animal. So, anyway, last night, I must have just, you, know, grabbed at you and started to cuddle and... God, it's so embarrassing!"
I laughed a little. "It's okay. I mean, I've done the same and I don't even have a big teddy bear. So, does this bear have a name?"
"Fine. But, you know, I bet most guys would think the whole teddy bear thing is cute and not snobby."
"No, they'd just think I'm some stupid, immature little girl."
"Trust me, Kate, nobody is ever going to think you're immature after ten seconds of being around you. And I know for a fact that there are men who would find an 'I thought my friend's boob was a teddy bear' story flat-out hot."
That made her grin, a little mischevous one. "I suppose so. You don't mind?"
"Knock yourself out."
By then, Kate had noticed that the Brattle was doing a Bogie-and-Bacall weekend, so we went in for a double feature of that. She even tried the story on a guy we met there, but I gather the story would be, if not better, at least more effective in terms of getting guys to like her if the boob in question wasn't around for demonstration purposes.
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