The Rapid Meaning of Me

“WOW, that’s my favorite movie!” Angela said.

Angela is a girl I've recently met in the building and brought back to my apartment for a little one on one time. I’m not really sure if she is interested but so far so good. I mean she’s in my apartment and that must be a good sign. Here’s the thing; I’m not very skilled in these matters but I’ll explain more about that later. The object she is looking at is a movie poster that is hanging in my living room next to the entranceway. The picture shows a young boy about eleven years old running though the woods. He is looking over his left shoulder as he is running so you can clearly see from his face that he is very content. Not overly happy nor distressed so nothing must be chasing him. He is content from the sheer joy of running. The movie advertised on the poster is called The Rapid Meaning of Me.

“Did you like it?” Angela asked.

I answered, “I’m sorry but I haven’t seen the movie.”

“But you have the poster”, she stated a little confused.

Trying to move closer to my goal, I continued, “Well since you enjoyed the movie it must be good and I will make a special point to watch it sometime.” Truthfully, I really have no intention.

“I still don’t understand why you have a poster of a movie that you never watched”, she said.

Now I’m screwed and not the way I was hoping. If I tell her about the poster, there is no way anything will happen except talking but if I dismiss the question she will not appreciate it. She isn’t even very attractive but she is somebody that I know and I like and what the heck it’s been awhile a long while. No, I don’t love her but I would really love to love her. I wish I would have taken that poster down. I even bought some wine coolers for her. I don’t even drink so they’ll be in the refrigerator forever. That’s the next time that I will have a woman in my apartment, forever from now. I wish I could lie but I can’t. She’s my friend and I can’t lie to friends.

“OK, I, ah… well, I wrote the book”, I stammered.

With a mocking smile she said, “No Freaking Way! Then why didn’t you watch the movie?”

Here we go, down the road to celibacy, so I try to move past it. “Would you like a wine cooler?”

“Maybe later, Thanks. But this is interesting.” Staring at the picture like she was trying to remember her favorite parts she continued, “Do you have a copy of the book? I mean, if a movie was made from a book that you wrote, you would be rich. And, Tom you do not look rich. Are you trying to get in my pants by feeding me alcohol and telling me you are a famous author?” Now she turned and stared right at me. “Tom this is just too unbelievable. We’ve known each other for six months at least. I think you’re witty and quirky and a little nerdy but very trusting and nice. That’s why I like hanging out with you. If you wrote that book, I need to rethink some things. Come on Tom do you have a copy and why didn’t you watch the movie?”

I know I should have lied.

So I answered sounding defeated, “Yes, I have a copy and I didn’t watch the movie because it is never as good as the book. I didn’t want to watch actors pretending to know the characters better that I do, I didn’t want to see comedy when there was no humor and I would be horrified to see important and necessary pieces of dialog and scenes completely removed. Please, give me a second and I’ll get a copy.” I escaped into my bedroom to get the book, at the same time, remembering how quirky and nerdy were said with so much assurance. Should I give up all hope? Usually, I am so pragmatic accept when it comes to knocking boots. Why is it always so difficult?

Coming back from the bedroom, I hand her the book. “So, would you like that wine cooler now? Really, I’m not trying to get you drunk or do any thing else.” (OK, that’s a lie but you’re allowed to lie about that). “I’m just trying to be the perfect host.”

“Lord have mercy!” she said as she was starring at the front cover of the hard back book. “There’s your name ‘Thomas Forester’ and there’s the picture of the boy. I never knew how that picture had anything to do with the movie but I do know that book was written by someone who has a very unusual perception of the world. Of course, that's assuming the book is like the movie. Do you mind if I borrow the book?”

“Sure, help your self”, I know it’s over but I can’t stop. “How about a cup of tea? We could make some tea and then we could make chocolate chip cookies it will be a lot of fun!” I don’t have a television so that’s out. When I’m home I mostly just read but I'm not going to suggest it now. “I have some very tasty Darjeeling. Here let me start the water.”

“The money Tom, what happened to all the money?” She asked like it was the most important thing in the world.

Assuming that reading the book won’t alienate a friendship, I answer as calmly as possible, “I enjoy living frugally”. I now know I won’t see that book again and I won’t see Angela again except in passing. No more trips to the park, or to the library or to the mall and definitely no more taking casseroles to her apartment for dinner and games of cards and checkers. No, I didn’t make a move over there. I couldn’t. Didn’t you see she called me nerdy?

She saw my down cast eyes and didn’t want to ask any more questions. She simply said, “Tom, I think I gotta go. See yea later. Bye.”

It’s always bye.