Growing up, I was never one for commitment. It was either that or nobody wanted to commit to a tall, pale, brooding redhead until Twilight was released. When the movie came out, I was too old to try the Edward Cullen look—as simple as abstinence from bathing.
When I was in high school however, the O.C was on the TV of every suburban household and girls were on the hunt for their own Seth Cohen. Sensing I fit the mold (except the Jewish part), I thought I would draw from Cohen’s geeky, yet charming disposition. With an already existent love for Death Cab and a new, somewhat regrettable interest skinny jeans, I was confident that I’d be throwing a rose ceremony in no time.
I tried dating the ‘Anna’ type and at first I thought her whole ‘hipster-pixie’ act was cute. This quickly changed when all she would talk about were unicorns and cupcakes. I felt like I was dating the kind of girl who might have been in a porno with a horse, but still liked watching the Disney Channel and attending Tupperware parties.
On our date, I asked her what movie she’d like to see, and true to form, she chose 27 Dresses—quite possibly the worst film I have ever seen (no offense Katherine Heigl, but some nudity might have helped). After the movie ended, we headed to Starbucks to chat. I was reluctant to go because I was already convinced that there was no chemistry between us.
As any gentleman would do, I paid for both the movie and coffee—which was getting expensive considering I worked part-time at an Arby’s in the local mall. We quickly grabbed our coffee and awkwardly made our way to a table near the magazine rack; and after I had pretty much reiterated my whole life story in a struggle for conversation, I realized the girl didn’t talk much.
As Sade’s “Smooth Operator” hummed through the silence, I downed my latte and chose to study the magazine rack for conversational inspiration.
“So, do you like High School Musical?” I regrettably asked, (Zac Efron was on every magazine cover at the time).
Instantly, her face changed—she looked at me like I asked if she was into anal.
“Um, no. I’m not that immature.”
Before I blurted out that most people our age usually don’t buy bedazzled unicorn clothing either, I regained composure and decided to call it a night. I’d spent enough time with her to realize it wasn’t going to work, so I dropped her home with the awkward “do we kiss?” moment and that was that.
Or so I thought.
A year later I ran into a mutual friend of ours at a bar. For some reason the topic of our date came up and she asked me why I’m so into High School Musical. I couldn’t believe it. In a struggle to avoid the awkward silence, I lead her to believe that I was an avid High School Musical fan.
“I don’t. I just had nothing left to talk to her about so I looked at the—“
“Sure. It’s ok. A lot of people like the movie” she interrupted.
Since I had a decent buzz at the time, I left the conversation at that.
Needless to say my relationship with ‘Anna’ ended much quicker than our Californian counterparts. I never made that last minute trip to the airport before she left for Pittsburgh while Nada Surf’s ‘If You leave’ played in the background to further enhance the climactic moment. But that’s not to say I wouldn’t if the right girl came along.