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: : : SHE'S COMING OUT OF LOST IN TRANSLATION with Julius, a guy from work. This is the first time the two of them have been out together.
—So what do you think? he says, as they make their way up the street. —Bill Murray? Would you have gone for it?
—Yeah, sure, she says, grinning. —I would totally kiss Bill Murray.
Julius jams his hands into the pockets of his jacket. —You're probably reacting to his height, he says.
She looks over at him to check if he's joking but he's staring down at the pavement so she can't quite tell. She knows that Julius is short and all—he's only about two fingers taller than her modest 5'4”—but she'd been willing to ignore that for purposes of getting through the date, and she's surprised, and a little disheartened, that he's bringing it up.
—I don't think that's it, she says.
—Women often react to a guy's height, he says. —Subconsciously.
She sighs. It's not Bill Murray's height that she's reacting to, it's the way that he comes across as a kind of goofy dad, likeable, affable. It's the way that he's charismatic, but in an unpretentious way—so different from most of the charismatic men her own age, who all want to look hip or dangerous or tormented, whose charisma is inevitably all tangled up with their insecurity and their pride. If she could explain this then maybe Julius would learn something about her, and if she felt like he was learning things about her and might take those things into consideration then maybe she'd consider going on another date with him.
She wasn't that wild about going out with him in the first place. Anita kind of talked her into it. They had a conversation about it on Monday:
—Julius asked me out, Lydia had said.
—Julius? That guy over in Legal?
—Yeah.
—He's cute.
—He's not that cute.
—He's cute. So he asked you out?
—Yeah, he wants me to go see Lost in Translation with him.
—That movie looks good.
—Yeah, I want to see it.
—So what'd you tell him?
—I told him I had to check my schedule and I'd let him know.
—Ouch.
—Yeah, I know, I know, Lydia said. —I just—I just don't know if I want to go out with him.
—OK, Anita said. She begins to move items from her desk into her purse. —You free for lunch?
—I can't, Lydia said. —I have some stuff I need to finish typing up.
—We'll do this quick then. What do you think is holding you back?
—I don't know, said Lydia. —I just feel like I just got done with this whole Austin thing…
—Honey, said Anita. —That was what? Five months ago? It's time to move on.
—Yeah, I know, but—
—It's just a movie, Anita said. —It's not till death do you part. She snaps her purse shut. —I would go. Someone shows an interest; you say yes. It's polite. If you don't have a good time you'll at least have a reason for not wanting to go on another date. It's not like he's going to turn out to be a serial killer or anything.
—We don't know that for sure, Lydia said.
—Please. The guy's what, five-foot-six?
—That just makes it more likely that he's a serial killer, Lydia said. —I bet a lot of serial killers are short.
Anita stands up. —I gotta dash, she said. —But listen, you should go. At the absolute least it'll put some distance between you and the whole Austin thing. And at best, who knows? He could be the love of your life.
—Yeah, maybe, Lydia said. —I'm not convinced.
—Convincing you ain't my job, honey. That's his job.
And so here they are walking up the street and she's still not convinced. But she's starting to wonder whether she's right to be this concerned about being convinced this soon. What's wrong with me? she thinks. Why can't I just like go out with a guy and just have a good time and let that be it? Why do I have to get all obsessed about the future?
Julius checks his watch. —It's still pretty early, he says.
—What time is it? she asks. She could check the time herself but she doesn't feel like digging out her phone.
—It's like 9:30, he says. —Do you want to maybe go get a drink or something?
—I don't know, she says. —Actually, no, I should probably be getting home; I didn't get much sleep last night and I should probably turn in early. (This is a lie; she slept like a rock.)
So she hailed a cab and headed home. They hugged quickly and he managed to get something out about having had a good time: maybe they can get together again soon. She made a noncommittal noise designed to pass for agreement without actually being agreement. Now she's sitting on the couch in her fuzzy robe, watching Conan O'Brien, and eating ice cream directly out of the carton.
Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to judge, she thinks. Maybe Julius is the best I'm going to get. Sometimes she thinks of the process of dating as a means of finding your own social level. Maybe she's found hers, and maybe it's full of men like Julius instead of men like Bill Murray.
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