Forrest made dinner for me last night. He was visibly nervous when I arrived at his place because he was worried it wouldn’t taste good. So nervous so that he quickly downed a drink before I arrived in hopes of taking the edge off; Cleary a failed attempt. I found it all too cute and extremely familiar. I remember how important it was to stay calm, cool and collected in the early stages of a relationship. Long before I felt comfortable burping out loud and peeing with the bathroom door wide open, I had to be indestructible, unscathed and generally perfect.
Of course his meal was delicious, and I was extremely appreciative of every detail. Down to the lemon wedges cut and arranged on a side plate. Everything about Forrest’s life reminds me of my own when I was in my mid 20’s. There’s something wonderfully familiar about eating dinner at his apartment on stools at the breakfast bar surrounded by books, papers, unopened mail and random pocket change.
I thought I might struggle more with our age difference but I’m completely unfazed by it. Well, almost…he’s never seen Sixteen Candles and that’s just incomprehensible. And un-American if I do say so myself. ;)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment