How does a moment turn into a memory? Is it the never forgotten rush of energy moving through your body after experiencing something for the first time? Can it be the visuals remembered after receiving good news? Everyone encounters delightful and heartbreaking moments, whether delightful or heartbreaking they all turn into special memories. These specific moments remembered, are special for simply the reason of being remembered in the first place. The moment doesn't have to be something dramatic, it can be something minor that occurred. Maybe it's unknown why that specific memory even exists.
The Moment.
During my freshmen year of college a man decided to ask me to the movies. Being 18 years old, somewhat innocent and naive, I didn't understand that he expected more than just company at the movies. I remember him texting me from Bushwick, Brooklyn while I was watching Wizards of Waverly Place and laying on my bed in the dorm room Co-ed, 27th street. I replied right away telling him to come over, mostly because I was bored. I had no interest in this man, but somehow my actions or kind words lead him to believe I did. He arrived to my dorm about an hour after I told him to come over. As I went down the elevator to sign him in, I slowly began regretting the decision of agreeing to see a movie with him.
It was lightly raining that night. He stood outside waiting for me in a damp heather gray hoodie. At that moment for some reason I began to hate him. I have no idea why I dislike him, perhaps it was how I remembered the way he would look at me. Like he loved me, like we were going to become something more. Or maybe he looked at me that way because he was hoping to get lucky. Either way that was the night I started to dislike him.
He hailed a taxi on the corner of 27th and 7th. The six block taxi ride was extremely quiet, he tried to make conversation but I disliked him so much I stayed short. A part of me actually felt sorry for him. It wasn't his fault, it was mine. He paid for the taxi, our movie tickets, the popcorn (oh goodness), and drinks. The worst part of this entire experience, is the moment of myself getting popcorn from the bag and him intentionally rubbing his finger slowly against my pinky. I quickly pulled my hand back and did a fake giggle, I think he got the idea. It's unknown why I remember this so vividly, but it's not pleasant.
After the movie ended we got a taxi and headed back to my dorm. When we got there he leaned up against the building and lit up a cigarette. He insisted on coming up to my room even though I was yawning and complaining about how tired I was several times that night. I eventually ended up letting him because I felt bad. He sat on my bed, and everything was just really awkward. Finally he ended up making a move to leave and go back to Bushwick. I signed him out and thanked him, as if the entire night wasn't miserable for me.
The point is that if I didn't experience that awful pinky popcorn moment, this would've never became a memory. It would be lodged in the back of my mind with all the other pointless bs. Today, three years later, we are friends. I still somewhat dislike him, and I know it's because we rubbed pinky fingers in the popcorn bag. Boredom can be toxic.
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