I think it's really funny, how long it's been since I've gone on a real date. As opposed to a booty call that may or may not have ended with a Coffee Bean run, or just a hookup at a party.
I think it had been a year.
Anyhow, I was super nervous and jittery beforehand because I'm so out of practice with the whole dating scene. You mean we're going to go do something and not have sex right away? I'm not even expected to blow him? What can we do?
As it turns out, we could see "127 Hours," which, if you haven't seen it (and aren't entirely too squeamish), I highly recommend. It's based (and when I say "based," I actually mean, "this time it's pretty much true to fact") on the incredible story of a hiker/canyoneer who was trapped literally between a rock and a hard place (a boulder was wedged against his lower right arm) with 300 mL of water for over five days. I think it was Roger Ebert who said the movie was an exploration in filming the unfilmable -- it's a guy all by himself in a cave for five days. He doesn't really move, because his arm is stuck in place. He doesn't really talk to anyone, because there's no one to talk to. But my date (Michael) and I were both absolutely enthralled the entire time. In a word, it's intense. It's also an incredible testament to the body's willpower to survive. For some reason(s), it really stirred up feelings about my own recovery (you know, the one I talk about but never actually get around to). Right now, I am alone in a cave. I mean this figuratively as well as almost literally, as most of my life is spent in my box of a studio. I don't interact with a whole lot of people when I don't have to. The cave can also be my anorexia, sure, and I guess my rock... well, my rock could be a whole lot of things. In one way, it's whatever is keeping me tied to the anorexia -- feelings of abnormalcy, inadequacy, grief, addiction, a need to (not) cope, etc. It could also be specific behaviours like restricting and weighing and measuring. Or thought patterns. What really struck me (and I'm not going to hold your hand while I take you through this metaphor; you'll have to follow me yourselves... but you're smart, I trust) was that at one point the protagonist, Aron, realized that the reason the boulder couldn't dislodge from his arm was that his arm was what was propping the boulder up in the first place. And for most of the movie he fought that notion, trying in vain to move the boulder or extract himself from it while not doing anything about his abetting arm. And then (spoiler alert, if you hadn't seen this on the news back in '03, which I didn't, because I was in the hospital for the first time with organ failure and a feeding tube, funny how things come full circle like that) eventually he realized that there was only one thing he could do, and that was amputate his own arm, and it was the most painful and graphic fucking thing, I'm sure, but he did it... and then he staggered out into the sunlight, still not sure if he was going to live or die because he was still quite alone.
He lived.
There's also a really profound line (he documents some of his struggle on a video camera with incredibly resilient battery power) where Aron murmurs, reflecting on what in him got him stuck and alone, with no one knowing where he was and no means of reaching out, "this rock has been waiting for me my whole life."
Fuuuuuuuck.
So yeah, I got all introspective and shit and was like, what's my rock?
What's your rock?
I had several victories tonight. First of all, I actually went on a date. It took a lorazepam, a long hot shower, and an afternoon nap, but I went on a date with a guy that I was seriously into, not just a "trial run." Which I did berate myself for not doing, seeing as I thought I could have used the practice with someone I wasn't actually interested in.
Then, I had like six pieces of popcorn at the movie. I "compensated," but still, popcorn is not raw. And if it's not raw, it's scary. Go me. Just a little.
And FINALLY, I wore the outfit I wanted to wear as opposed to the outfit that my eating disorder told me I wouldn't look fat in. You can't see it in the picture, but those aren't pants, they're thick, patterned tights. Which I feel always "stretch" the legs widthwise. And my shirt (again, you can't see it in the photo) had a similarly patterned, sheer back. Even though I thought the shirt was boxy, I still wore it. And I wore my gorgeous, albeit bulky-ish, red coat. Huge body image victory.
Yes, I'm posing. I'm not some road-to-recovery Zen master; give me a break.The date itself went well. We talked all the way there and back; there were never any awkward pauses, and we laughed a lot. I hope he knows the ball's in his court to call me back, since I had to go out on a limb and (for the first time in my life) technically be the one to ask him out, since he volunteered to give me his number when we met at the party and then said to call him. It took me a damn week, but I called him. He's a cutie. I think we've been through this.
REAL TIME UPDATE: Just got a text from a mutual friend. Reads, "Michael likes u haha."
You guys, Michael likes me.
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