Robin, Boy Virgin: Original Series

Date with Cora. Ok.

I felt good. I didn't feel nervous, and usually nervousness is a common symptom on a first date. But, the ordinary rules don't apply here since usually you aren't totally in love with your date the first time you go out either. And plus Cora and I have been friends for awhile and sort of almost in a relationship for a bit. So there's that comfort level. But at the same time I was a little bit totally jazzed up and excited. To make a total clone-douche puppy ass out of myself, I quote the Black Eyed Peas: I gotta feeling that tonight's gonna be a good night.

I looked at myself in the mirror on the back of my bedroom door, assessing my outfit critically. I felt a little like I was betraying my Y chromosome, fretting over my clothing, but I let it slide. My black eye had successfully healed, so I decided I would take another stab at looking attractive. I was wearing a nice, more fitted pair of jeans, my sneakers, the white v-neck again, and a black hoodie to, like, make an edgy contrast to the white t-shirt. Or something. Fack I dunno what the crap I'm doing, really.

I ran a pea-sized amount of gel through my hair and then added a thin silver chain around my neck. Hm. Well, I kinda looked sorta... like I belonged in an indie band. All I needed to do was replace the necklace with a skinny tie and let some stubble grow on my jaw and I'd practically be freaking Dallas Green. Hmmmmraa! I blew a loud raspberry at my reflection. Oh well. Maybe this indie music geek look would turn Cora's crank anyway.

I've heard that girls have a hell of a time worrying about how they look to the point where they're practically pulling out their hair: clothes, hair, make up, the whole nine yards. And girls have, like, about a million more tools to work with than dudes do. That must really give you girls some identity issues huh? Cuz you could potentially change yourself so much with all the make-up and clothes and stuff that you don't recognize the person you've dressed up in the mirror. Wow, that's depressing. I mean, that'd depress me. Girls, I implore you, just dress yourself to look like yourself. Don't mind fuck yourselves and the poor guys that want to like you.

See, that's one of the things I love about Cora (you know, to save time, I should just write a quick list of the few things I don't love about her and then you can assume that I love every other thing about her). I'll sort that out later. Ok, anyway, a specific thing I love about Cora is that she embraces the minimal. Admittedly, she's naturally freaking drop dead gorgeous, but one of the reasons why she's drop dead gorgeous is because she doesn't try to be drop dead gorgeous, you know? Like, her in that Led Zeppelin t-shirt and her cute sneakers made me like her more than her in that Abercrombie skank outfit.

I sighed dreamily, feeling like a pre-teen girl, and thought about Cora in her Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd t-shirts and and then looked at my alarm clock. 6:31. I grabbed my wallet, cell phone, and keys and put them in jeans' back pockets and slid on my coat. I jogged downstairs.

"Pop?" I called.

"Yeah?" Glenn called from the living room. I went into the living room. Glenn and Linda were curled up on the couch watching Sunset Boulevard.

"Can I borrow the car, por favor?" I asked. He and Linda looked over at me. Because I sounded kinda cheerful.

"Sure. What's up??" Glenn asked, overly curious.

"I gotta date tonight," I shared. I left the room before I got any parental exuberance or more overly curious questions. I went to the desk in the front hall and picked Glenn's car keys out of the dish of keys. I spun the keys around on my finger and had this childish impulse to grab my fake gun from upstairs and show it to Cora.

The doorbell rang. Since I was a foot away from the door, I opened it immediately. I blinked. It was Cora. She blinked back at me, surprised that I'd opened the door unconventionally fast, and chuckled. I blinked again.

Whoaa, k. It's just not fair to either sex that one person can look that good. Cora had turned her appearance up just a couple notches: trading in her sneakers for flat shoes and her usual t-shirt for this black, fitted top with a deep, kinda asymmetrical cut in the front. She'd added a little more make up to her eyes. And the overall effect was... wow, holy smoke. Yeah, girls, we notice when you just do little things like that. I am such a lucky bastard to be the one she was going out with tonight, wow.

"Hey," She chuckled more at my expression. I was probably gaping at her like a goldfish. I blinked and opened the door wider to let her in.

"Hey! You look hott, Boy Wonder," She complimented me once she was inside the house and could see me better. "You're gonna make Batman jealous on a few levels" She teased me, smiling her merciless and devastating grin.

"I... really?" I laughed nervously. She nodded, still smiling.

"Huh," I said. Ok, indie musician wannabe works. "Oh and you look totally gorgeous," I remembered to say and said it quickly. "But that's kind of the norm for you..." I added, my voice trailing off. Cora rolled her eyes at that statement but then smiled at me in a very, uh, girl-like way. It made my heart pound.

"Um, what are you doing here?" I realized suddenly, frowning at her. She blinked.

"... aren't we going out tonight?" She frowned a little too.

"Yeah. I was going to come pick you up," I told her. "Are you not aware of the good date rules?" I asked her rhetorically.

"No. What are they?" She demanded and giggled at me.

"Oh, well, the guy always comes to pick up the girl. Almost never the other way around," I started. Cora smiled. "Second, I let you pick the movie we see and we can split the admission if you insist on it, but I pay for popcorn," I went on. Cora was ginning and giggling at me. And that was encouraging, so I kept going.

"And third, if you don't put out at the end of the night, I reserve the right to punch you in the ovaries," I said.

Cora burst out laughing and I giggled. She put her hand over her beautiful mouth and I wanted to move her hand away so I could see her laugh. She shook her head and kept giggling at me. Even though it's a little pathetic and un-macho of me, I do like that she knows I would never in a million years do something like that. Are you freaking kidding me?? I'd rather punch my own self in the nuts than force some girl to have sex with me just cuz I took her to get pizza or something.

"Ok, well..." Cora started to say and then broke out giggling hysterically again. I chuckled, shoving my hands in my jeans' pockets.

"Well," She tried to say again, swallowing her infectious laughter. "How about I let you drive the Charger. Is that a good compromise, will it make you feel like a gentleman?" She asked me and grinned.

"Yes. Definitely," I said, suddenly excited to get a chance to drive the Charger. Cora willingly handed over the keys.

Wow. For tonight, I was going to shed my lame, virgin geek skin and be legitimately cool: speeding around in the Charger with Cora in the passenger seat. Maybe I wouldn't even wear my seat belt and I'd smoke a cigarette while Cora hung off my arm in front of the movie theater and told me awesome stories about her life in California. Then we'd listen to some kick-ass mix CD Cora had and dance around by the river, getting drunk off white wine. That sounded freaking magical, I felt like Cinderella.

Aaand just like that I was a lame virgin geek again. I can't believe I even thought about Cinderella just now-

"You ready to go?" Cora giggled at me.

"Yep. Let's roll," I said, bowing Cora out the door. I yelled a goodbye to Glenn and Linda and then followed Cora down to the Charger. She climbed into the passenger seat before I could get there to open the door for her. I sat down in the driver's seat of the Charger.

"I feel like I just got into the enchanted pumpkin," Came out of my stupid mouth before I could stop it. Cora burst out laughing again though, her beautiful laugh filling the car. I groaned at myself and then chuckled and turned on the car. When it roared to life under my power, I felt excited and giddy again.

"Cinderfella," Cora said and then started cackling a little at me.

"Whateva. I'll be damned if this ends before midnight," I said, reaching around to hold the back of her head rest and looking out the rear view mirror as I backed out of my driveway. Cora just kept giggling and crossed her legs, enjoying being the passenger.

"To the ball, BW," She commanded. I grinned and took off down the street.

“Ok, movie, movie,” Cora pondered, looking up at the movie titles on the marquise. I looked at her looking up at the marquise. She really did look gorgeous. Like, something was a little different about her hair… it was kind of smoother? More, like, done? Like, I guess she comes to school and just lets the sexy tangle of wavy curls do whatever they want. Now it was more… kinda…

Fack I really don’t know. She just looked outrageously great.

“How do you feel about Michael Cera?” She asked and looked at me. I wasn’t paying attention. Once those blue eyes are looking into mine, man, I’m done.

“… Hm?” I snapped out of it and glanced up at the marquise and then back at her. Cora chuckled at me.

“Michael Cera. Yeah, nay?” She asked me again.

“Oh… uummm,” I stalled. “Eh, he kinda reminds me too much of me,” I said honestly. He really does. I don’t know if it’s the roles he plays or if it’s just his actual person, but Michael Cera has been type cast to play the awkward, passive, music-loving dork. And… well, if you haven’t figured it out yet: hi, I’m Robin and I’m an awkward, passive, music loving, un-famous mega-dork.

Why is that look all of a sudden popular in Hollywood now? I speak on behalf of every awkward music dork when I say we don’t want to see ourselves on huge movie screens, ok? We have to live with the special breed of geeks that we are every day. Honestly, I would rather see Zac Efron up there. Honestly. He’s good-looking and obviously got some sort of Disney charm goin’ on there. Like, that’s on the right road to being a movie star.

“Ok we are definitely watching the Michael Cera flick,” Cora decided with finality.

“Oh, Coraa,” I complained automatically. She grinned and looped her arm through mine and pulled me over to the ticket counter.

“C’mon. I’ll buy the tickets for it, then, and you buy the popcorn,” Cora said.

“Ugh. Isn’t there… like… a Zac Efron movie?” I suggested softly, whining, and hoping I’d make her laugh. She did giggle, score.

“Forget it,” She dismissed, grinning at me. The girl behind the ticket selling counter was wearing a shit load of eyeliner but had a really cool “I Kick Vampires” pin. Hehe. Nice.

“So… Michael Cera?” She double checked with us. We were at this movie theater in the mall, and it’s kind of run down and small and un-popular and very few people go there. And therefore, I like it. For all of those reasons. Anyway, the girl had heard pretty much the whole exchange between Cora and me.

“Two please,” Cora confirmed. Before I could dig out my wallet, Cora had whipped out a bill from her purse and handed it to the girl.

“I would have bought it,” I muttered. Cora just smiled at me.

“Enjoy your movie guys,” The vampire kicker chuckled at us. I think she thought we were cute. Bonus, that’s awesome.

“Just to warn you, I have, like, a second stomach for movie theater popcorn. I eat a lot of it,” Cora told me as we walked up the stairs to the concession stand and the theaters cove. Her hand was holding on to my elbow again.

“Good. We’ll get an extra large popcorn and just beast it,” I decided, putting power behind the word ‘beast’. It made Cora laugh, which is always the goal.

“Awesome,” She giggled. Upstairs, there were some people in line for refreshments. We lined up behind them. Cora took her hand from my elbow and smacked her palms lightly on her thighs.

“Candy. I didn’t even think about that. What’s your favourite kind of chocolate bar??” Cora asked, her gears switching rapidly from exasperated to casual to very curious. Even if I had been paying attention, I wouldn’t have been able to keep up. All I could think about was how to get her hand back on my elbow.

“Hm? What?” I said, blinking and looking at Cora. She grinned at me.

“Are you going to get candy?” She asked me, smiling.

“Uhh… nah, I’ll pass. But do you want some?” I asked. I’d buy her every single kind of candy available behind the counter if that's what she wanted. Is that being really in love or just really whipped? Both? Maybe?

“Um… well I do love junior mints,” Cora said. Of course she does. Peppermint tea, mint chocolate chip ice cream, she likes to keep it fresh. But then, who doesn’t like junior mints? I don’t need to go on; there’s an entire Seinfeld episode dedicated to Junior Mints.

“Ooh so do I. K, a box of junior mints, an extra large popcorn” I started another list. Cora giggled.

“To drink?” I asked her.

“Iced tea,” Cora decided.

“And Coke. Alriight,” I said, pleased. I’m such a loser: I love making lists. Cora chuckled at me and brushed her bangs off her forehead. It was a really attractive gesture.

And I wasn’t the only one who noticed. In another part of the zigzagging line up was this pack of douche puppies. Yeah, they were douche puppies: really good looking and athletic and totally checking out my date. I don’t blame them, Cora is hott like the sun, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t hate them. I hated them. Cora noticed them her noticing her too. I guess when four American Eagle model-esque guys are giving you the once over (am I using that right?), you notice.

In that moment, I wanted to seize Cora’s hand. Or wrap my arm around her shoulders, you know? And then stick my tongue out at them as if to say “sucks to be you, assholes! Try being a nice guy and then see if you get a goddess for yourself”. Ok, I’d probably skip the juvenile tongue thing. But I really wanted to hold Cora’s hand. I mean, we’re actually on a date and I am in love with her. I want her to be mine.

Cora looked away from them and over at a new movie poster. She slid her hands in her jeans’ pockets, trying to keep everything casual. At first, my heart plummeted to my gut because she was cutting off the direct access to hand holding: the first tip off to other douche puppies that you’re taken. But then it was like Harold appeared in a thought bubble above my head: clues, Robin, look for clues, he told me.

Ok, Cora looked away from them, she didn’t smile at them or make a comment to me about them. And, you know, Cora is fearless and balls-y so I’m confident that she didn’t ignore them because she’s shy. Ha! That’s kind of funny. Cora is absolutely not shy. Anyway, she’s totally ignoring them because… she’s on a date with me? She respects those date boundaries? Or maybe she’s not actually interested in those guys. Maybe, just maybe she actually only cares about yours truly, the indie artist wannabe over here. Hm.

I bought our refreshments and we walked over to the ticket-taking girl. She smiled at me and ripped Cora’s and my tickets. We walked to the theater and I let Cora pick the spot. She selected a row of seats near the back, but not too far back, and right smack in the middle of the row. Perfect. We settled in her seats, taking off our jackets, and then fighting for dominance over the middle arm rest.

Wouldn’t you know it? Those fucking douche puppies wanted to see the Michael Cera flick too. What the hell was up with that? Maybe it’s like how I kinda feel about Zac Efron: they are Zac Efron-y all the time, so why would they want to see themselves in the movies? They want to see how the weirdos live.

“What’ll you give me if I throw this piece of popcorn and it gets stuck on top of Nick Lachey’s gel-spiked head?” I muttered a little too venomously to Cora, glaring over at the douche puppies’ heads. They were sitting over in the side wing, but like the same general row as us. Probably so they could look over at Cora. However, I was between them and Cora. And it was going to stay that way, even if I had to get into a fight in those sticky, gross, movie theater aisles. I hope Cora appreciates everything I go through for her in these imaginary scenarios.

“Oh my god,” She whispered, giggling huskily as she glanced past me at the stupid douche puppies. “Anything you want,” She said suggestively right in my ear, emphasizing both the intense sexuality and how awesome it would be if I went through with the action. My knees started to stand up on their own and I pulled my arm back. I was about to actually throw the piece of popcorn in my fingers.

“Don’t,” Cora giggled, grabbing my arm and making me sit back down. “Don’t, don’t,” She said. But she seemed impressed that I really had intended to go through with it.

“If he’s bugging you, come sit with us,” The bravest asswipe called, a little self-consciously, across the aisle over to Cora. Arsenic shot down my spine and I wanted to punch all of them. I stayed in my seat, hopelessly passive, but seethed, staring darkly at the movie screen.

Then, Cora took my hand that was closest to her on my leg (oh, yeah, she won the middle seat armrest), and twined her fingers with mine. THEN she brought our hands back up to the armrest to share. In plain view of those douche puppies; not forced right in their face (Cora has more class then that), but her statement was clear enough: I’m with him, shut up. My first impulse was to drop my jaw, joyously stunned. My second, stronger impulse was to keep my mouth open, look over at those guys, point at the hand holding and then switch from a horizontal index finger to a vertical middle finger and smile at them.

I didn’t do any those things though. I really didn’t need to. Cora had already given them the smiling middle finger with this gesture. I love her. I love her more than anything.