I met Josh in a bar in the LES. Is there any more classical way to begin a story of sexual misadventure? I was dressed a lot cuter than I usually dress. Huge mistake to meet men when you’re all tarted up because they seem to expect certain things of you and this can be a) incorrect and b) insulting. The reason for the extra sexy attire was that I was seeing a friend I hadn’t seen in a while and I wanted to look girly because she often looks very girly and I over did it. When in Rome.

In any case, I thus attracted the notice of several men at the bar, one of whom attracted my notice right back. Lana and I were discussing how as relatively attractive women, we only get approached by idiotic, asshole men and the shyer men we’re interested in never approach us. I indicated the guy I’d noticed, who was also taking time to notice me. One of Lana’s friends bullied me into approaching him, much to the embarrassment but palpable appreciation of both me and the tall, dark, handsome and, I was soon to discover, deeply religious Josh.

We spoke for the rest of the evening, easily and lightly. He plied me gently with alcohol and we kissed goodbye when the bar closed. He texted me the very next night to invite me to a movie but unfortunately I was involved in a heated philosophical screaming match (ironically on the subject of religious faith) with Alice and Darlene (two of my three housemates) and I missed the text. I cursed them both (though this time silently because we’d resolved our dispute) and texted him back. We arranged to catch the movie the next evening.

“Why on earth are you bringing up an ex-girlfriend on our very first date? Double idiot. Now take me home.”

Josh was indisputably less affable on our first date. I do not doubt that a lack of alcohol might have something to do with this. I find, in general, that people tend to charm me a little more thoroughly when I’m suitably intoxicated, especially when they’re providing the intoxicants. He’d picked a terrible movie for a first date and I’d known that going in, but even before the film began, there started to be some hints that this wasn’t going to be the most successful of evenings.

There was a preview for some ridiculous Eric Bana movie where he looked to be playing a romantic lead. I whispered something (trying to be chummy and conversational, rather than the hypercritical shrew that I am in real life) about how funny this seemed to me. Josh rather defensively asked me why and I (film buff that I am) cited the Hulk films.

Suddenly, Josh was argumentatively listing the entirety of Eric Bana’s acting repertoire to me, ending a bit strangely with “and, he played Jesus Christ Our Lord in Mel Gibson’s The Passion of Christ.” Something in me flinched and my expression might have wavered accordingly. An Eric Bana obsession and a passion for anything Mel Gibson related were not good developments in this already awkward date. I am not proud to admit that my first thought was something along the lines of, “There is no way I’m sleeping with this guy.” My second thought however was that Eric Bana was not in The Passion of the Christ. I felt pretty confident about this.

But girls on first dates do not argue nor bicker. We save that til you’ve made honest women of us and then we ritualistically show you how wrong you are about everything, mostly about having made honest women of us. Despite this, I still could not helping out squeaking out a polite, nice girl protests, “Really? I didn’t know Eric Bana was in The Passion of Christ. Are you sure?”

He gave me a look that Moses might have used on the red sea. Or that the burning bush might have used on Moses. Or that Jesus Christ Our Lord might have shown those folks in the temple before he upended all their wares. “I saw it three times,” he told me coldly, as though this ended the argument.

And because I had no rejoinder, it did. In fact, it effectively put a damper on conversation for the rest of the night. The movie we saw was 500 Days of Summer, which I found painful, another irony laden indie flick, one of those that pro-ports to be different and then is exactly the same. It had that beautiful, astonishingly blue eyed girl who should stick to singing and that guy who is actually a rather talented young actor, but keeps having to play a sweet second to untalented, quirky yet overwhelming actresses. It wasn’t all that remarkable.

The film ended and I began to turn to Josh with a, “Eh…that was alright,” ready on my lips when he interrupted me with the same look he seemed to muster up for grandiose statements about Eric Bana, Mel Gibson and apparently sappy fucking emo indie films. The look took my breath away which is good because if I’d had any breath, I might have laughed out loud at his dramatic rhetorical question, “Have you ever watched a movie and just felt like ‘that was my life, that was me’?” he asked me.

“Well of course,” I agreed and then felt my eyes narrowing inadvertently as I realized the implications of what he was saying. “Wait…that movie…that somehow rung true for you?”

Josh was nodding something fierce, “That was exactly what happened with me and my ex-girlfriend,” he said, a little breathless.

Really? Well…then you’re an idiot. And you date very contrived people. Which is not me. And why on earth are you bringing up an ex-girlfriend on our very first date? Double idiot. Now take me home.

I didn’t say any of this, but I did get a lift home and very demonstrably turned an attempt at physical contact into a hug that felt almost familial. I think I might have actually patted him on the back. I found my housemates in a nearby bar, bemoaned the utter lack of intelligence and discretion in the men I go out with and asked them if Eric Bana was in the Passion of Christ. They agreed with me that he was most certainly not and we confirmed it via an iphone and the internet. They helpfully bought me several gin and tonics to ease the pain of my evening and we laughed about what a fool Josh was.

As it turned out, while non too intelligent, Josh turned out to be a bit more cunning than I expected. When he called me again, and I presented my arguments in favor of friendship, John was more readily amendable to the prospect than any of my previous suitors had been. I have to say that I found this at least slightly offensive, considering how obviously superior I was to him in all dating respects. Women are so weird. We want people we don’t want to want us.