Only the Moon Watching

Chapter 17: I Reach Out

I don't think it's an appropriate opening question, ("Hey! Do you have tough-love parents! Or are they fully absent, like mine?!") so I save it.

Unable to think of anything clever, original, or creative enough to start a satisfying conversation, Shiv and I end up borrowing quiz questions from the back of one of her out-of-date gossip magazine:

If you could invite anyone living or dead to dinner – don't say who it would be – what would you feed them?
"That's a great one," Shiv purrs. "It says even more about them than the person they chose, right? What would you feed your very favorite person in the world? Do you cook for them yourself, do you take them to the most expensive restaurant? It's sort of a love language question in disguise, isn't it?"

If it was your last day on Earth, what would you do first?

"Have sex," I answer. "Wouldn't everyone?"

"You are a cave-girl," says Shiv, wiggling her eyebrows approvingly.

What crime are you most likely to commit?

"Stealing hearts," she jokes. "Hopefully you both are guilty of that one. God I'm dying for some entertainment! Have a thrilling, on-off romance, won't you? I need something to watch!"

In the end, we add a list of easy, one word questions too. Favorite color, favorite season ("So you know when to plan the wedding!" says Shiv), star sign, what kind of Avatar the Last Airbender bender are you?

The list is sloppy and my handwriting looks worse than normal. I tell Shiv to head off to dinner without me, so I can recopy my note in peace and try to make it look neater, calmer, and less desperate – like a piece of perfectly-executed homework, not like it was written by someone on her second day of of a six month jail sentence.

Above the quiz, I add a note. (I couldn't do it with Shiv watching, too embarrassing.)

I've never done this before. (Don't girls always say that?)

I cringe at how lame it is!

I wouldn't – if we met in the outside world. If I'd done it a thousand times I'd tell you, and if I'd never done something I'd make sure you knew that too.

I've never done anything like this: never committed a felony nor met someone over a toilet. (I also haven't said never/nor before!)

I think about crossing that part out, is it too stupid? But I'm running out of time to eat dinner and if I spend any longer on this note Shiv might get suspicious, come check on me, rip it out of my hands, and read it.

My roommate's name is Shiv, she's read some of your letters to Kristina Kelly. She told me about Vonnegut and granfalloons and I have to say I think you're full of it.

How can you expect to bypass the shallow bits and have a heart-to-heart conversation with a stranger right away? I don't believe in astrology or the Universe as a proper noun that grants wishes like a genie, but I do think it's important to know some of the granfalloons you subscribe to:

Do you watch HBO? Root for a sports team? Are you on Twitter? We all fit into groups, even if you think they're stupid. Looked at one by one they might not mean much, but certain combinations are revealing. Like, if you're a Slytherin and a Samantha Jones you might also be a self-serving slutty sociopath. Or if you're in a fraternity and you thought Ender's Game was a good movie and you don't have a library card you might be dumb. (Just being in a fraternity alone doesn't make you dumb, but, together...)

Take my roommate as another example: she committed identity fraud and she loves murder mysteries and if she one day faked her own death I wouldn't be surprised because all the signs were totally there. You might think it's lame for me to ask your favorite color, but if it's blood-red and you used to strangle small animals and you've never had a friend... You might be a murderer and I need to know that.

Of course, individually labels don't matter, but taken together they paint a picture. I'm not going to reveal my deepest darkest secrets to you until you tell me all the Facebook groups you're in.

It's also a bit of a test, I think – to see if he's willing to compromise because that's an important quality in any budding relationship, isn't it? I cringe again, shoving the letter in to my bra like it's contraband.