I love cinemas.
I know what you're thinking. You hate cinemas, Clara. You said so yourself. You told me that they were a dark, dreary room full of smelly nerds out to catch up on the latest films and squawk over them with their buddies. There are much better things to do in the world other than sit on your backside and stare at a screen. Writing, reading, walking. So many good things, productive things, out there that are a better way to spend your time. I know I said all of this. I do. Trust me, Diary, I do.
But I'd never been to the cinema with Danny before. And now I have. And now I love cinemas.
What caused the sudden change of heart, you ask? Allow me to explain. Are you sitting comfortably? Good. Then lets begin.
Firstly, he didn't come and drag me there. That's happened to me before. Never gone down that well. If I don't want to go, coming to my door literally forcing myself out of my living room is not the way to go. It will only make me more miserable and very unlikely to watch anything that happens in the film. I'll be sat there internally begging to leave, ignoring everything you have to say until the moment I can leave. You won't get a goodbye. Just my back as I dash off, quickly trying to get back to the comforts of my living room to put the evening out of my mind.
He didn't do that. In fact, I think he was surprised I showed up at all. After a panicky text I sent him earlier in the day, telling him of how I wasn't sure if I would make it, he seemed alright. He still wanted to go, and would go either way. But I really hoped he would see me. And that he would wait for me until he absolutely had to go in.
After hours of huffing and puffing, going over every reason not to go in my head, I came to the conclusion that I was going. Nothing was going to stop me from seeing Train Boy and that was that. I'd deal with all the smelly men and darkness just to be in his company. Didn't really give myself much time to prepare, though. An hour before needing to meet him is not my idea of a good time. Quick shower, hair up, slap make up on, run run run to meet him...all set.
Second of all, he was right there waiting for me. Just like he promised. Huddled up in a puffer jacket, beanie covering his head. His breath coming out like mist in the winter air. Shivering despite his completely over the top protection from the cold. I swear it's because he's so thin. Not that I think he needs to put on weight or anything. He's magical as he is. But if he had just a shred more meat on those bones of his...
Yes. Alright. Magical. I called him magical. Don't hold it against me. What would you rather I called him? Fit? Sexy? Fuckable? Oh God. No. Please, I take that one back. That's foul. Forgive me, Diary. I don't ever call anybody that...
How about beautiful? Is that more acceptable? I didn't really want to use it. Makes me seem like some sort of stalker or psychopath, doesn't it? Meet someone a couple of times and call them 'beautiful'...yep. Definitely going crazy, Clara.
But anyway. As I was saying. He was there waiting for me. I think I got there about five minutes before he was planning to go in. If not five minutes, then pretty soon. The look of hope on his face as I turned the corner soon changed to glee as I dashed over to him. Throwing apologies his way, flapping my arms around like a mad woman as I tried to explain myself. But he told me he didn't care. I was here. That was all that was important.
Thirdly, he didn't ask me if I wanted popcorn. Of course I did, but that's not the point. I'm usually asked, and that makes me feel like a pig. If I want popcorn, I'll go and fetch it myself. That way, I don't feel like I have to say no just to be polite. That way, I'll be sat there all the way through just craving that sweet sweet goodness and not paying any more attention to what's supposed to be catching my attention.
No. He didn't ask me. He just went and got me some anyway. Sent me off to find the best seats in the house, with strict instructions as to where they were located, and came back and surprised me with a bag of large, sweet popcorn. And a drink as well, no less. A snippet of our conversation via text the other night about preferred choice of soft drink has obviously left a lasting impression. Because he got me Tango. Everybody else tended to stick to Diet Coke and handed it over with a look of hope. But I hate the fucker. Orange is the way to go.
Lastly, and this is the most important part...he chose a pretty decent film. Usually, when I get forced to come here, I have to watch the worst possible films. I've been to see everything from a children's film all the way through to a gory, disgusting excuse of a motion picture. All of which have either bored me stiff or made me cry myself to sleep with the images that my distracted brain decides to tune into very occasionally. I'm not into any of those types of films, and never will be. So to force me to watch them is something you simply do not want to do.
He chose The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I'd never heard of this film, seeing as I'm not an avid film lover, as you well know. But this one was different. It was beautiful. Moving. Challenging. A man that aged backwards. I've seen nothing like it.
I don't know how he knew about it. Or whether he was all that interested in it. But somehow he knew that I'd like it, and seemed to sacrifice his own enjoyment to make sure that I was having fun. And I did. I had lots of fun. Happiness and sadness and fear all got dragged out of me and he was there for the rollercoaster. I swear, seeing a bunged up, face leaking Clara is not a pleasant sight.
But he dealt with it. Wrapped his surprisingly strong arm around me whilst I blubbered like a dying whale. So attractive, huh? And he didn't even tease when we got out. Offered me a tissue he had left from the hot dog he'd ordered himself to wipe my eyes, making sure there was no mustard on it first. And just asked me to vent my views on the whole thing. And of course, my mouth went into overload.
I've never felt like this, Diary. I've never wanted to impress someone so much to go against everything that I know I am. I'm not a cinema lover. But yet, I'm contemplating going back for another round. And to spew so many opinions at him in the short space of time that we sat on a bench waiting for the tube to arrive, that's just unheard of. I mean, I know I'm chatty. But not about films. Never about films.
I wanted to kiss him tonight. Twit-twoo, yes I know. But can you blame me, Diary? He's just so lovely. Such a gentleman. I never thought I'd find someone like him here in dreary London. But I did. And I want to kiss him to make sure he's real.
I didn't. He's too sweet for that. He did give me a peck on the cheek as he got off though. And a wink. And the promise of a text to arrange another meeting. Cue high pitched screeching sounds, Diary. Cover your ears. I don't want to deafen you.
Oh. Would you look at that? I've got a text off him. Still amusingly known as Train Boy to my phone. I suppose I'd better go read it. It could be another date. Or just some witty joke he's thought of to make me smile. I doubt it's the latter. I hope it is though...
I'll speak to you tomorrow, Diary. Maybe another update on Danny. Who knows? Love you loads.
Clara x
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A/N - Hey guys. Another Clara chapter for you. I'm really feeling on a roll with this one. And the positive response I've had from you all is just amazing. Thank you so much. It really makes me want to write. Let me know what you think of this one! Vote, comment, do your thing. Much love x
