About a year and a half ago, Psycho asked a group of us single folk to share with him what we considered to be our “Enders” when on a date. I’ve been in a serious relationship for about a year now, but I did make some notes back then and–finally–I’m ready to share them with you.
Here’s how the whole thing started. Psycho said, “Assume you are dating. What counts as an Ender on a date?”
Here’s what I came up with.
Me: I’m having fun. Thanks for asking me out.
He: Me too. Next date, we’ll go to my bible study class.
or
He: Me too. You’re a much better kisser than your ex-boyfriend told me you were.
or
He: Yeah, you looked pretty desperate, so I knew it wouldn’t take much to impress you.
or
He: Cool. When do we get to the part of the date where you blow me?
or
He: Mind if I shoot up?
or
He: Shut up, bitch, no one cares what you think.
or
He: I’ve been dreaming about this moment. I love you.
or
He: Oh, shit, there’s my wife. Quick, get under the table.
Sadly, these were non-fiction accounts I came up with pretty readily. Since then, I’ve recalled what was the all-time Ender for me.
A guitarist and I had been dating for, oh, about six months or so. We’d known each other for years and years and finally got together for a purely sexual relationship that eventually evolved into some more “traditional” human connections (in other words, we TALKED sometimes). Honestly, I think we both would’ve been happier had we never attempted to stray from the “fuck buddies” status we began with.
Sigh.
Anyway, when he came to visit me in LA for a week, we had a blast together. Truly. We did all sorts of touristy things that we both enjoyed, drank, saw bands, had lots of sex. You know. On the last full day of his stay, we were at my apartment–hanging out in my room, and he decided he wanted to go downstairs to watch “The Simpsons” on TV. I asked, “Why don’t you just watch it on the TV up here?”
Now… here’s where it became an Ender. I’m thinking he’s going to say he prefers the larger TV… or perhaps he’d like for me to join him downstairs so that we can watch it together away from my room, etc. His answer?
“Nah. I want to watch on the downstairs TV. It’s closer to the beer.”
Yeah. Every time I wanted to miss him from then on, I just remembered that line.
Hell, I can’t fault the guy. At least he knows his priorities.