Surprises, both nice and...no so nice...

Yesterday, on Halloween, full of excitement, anticipation and general anxiety, I had my father drive me to the dim sum place where I would meet My Guy and, presumably, spend the entire day with him. I'd put a some effort into my appearance, as I intended to strike a balance between casual and fancy, so that, regardless of what the date turned out to be, I wouldn't end up looking underdressed or, as my mother would quaintly put it, like I was "the tart of the mart".
So, I put in my silver heart-shaped earrings that were pretty without calling undue attention to themselves, and I wore my matching heart-shaped locket with the photos of both my parents tucked inside (as a precaution, should they die prematurely, against forgetting what they look like). I put more care into my short hair - instead of just mixing hair cream into the bangs and parting them, I did that and I also perked up my hair in the back with hair wax as well. I applied eye make-up (black eyeliner and the oh-so-convenient roll-on silver eyeshadow) and lipstick (Maybelline Forever Metallics #15 - Copper Pink).
It was upon my arrival at the Dim Sum restaurant that I met My Guy waiting in line for a table - along with two of his male friends. A female friend (with a car) was supposed to arrive as well, but a sudden illness due to allergies had prevented her from joining us. Ah. Of course. It was a friendly get-together, and I, socially inept as I am, had immediately assumed he was asking me on a date where it would just be me and him and platters of deep-fried squid. I felt quite stupid and ridiculously over-dressed, and silently prayed that My Guy would fail to recognize the extra effort I had put into my appearance, and thus realize my foolish mistake.
Most of those feelings were quashed by the rest of the get-together, which was really quite pleasant. His two friends were quite charming, and the food was exceptional - lots of squid and shrimp and sticky rice (the ingredient that makes it so delightfully sticky - pork!). Our conversations were refreshingly free of adult worries - jobs, politics, religion - and were more inclined towards entertainments of the virtual variety - television, film, videogames, and webcomics.
After the meal, we proceeded to walk over to My Guy's building of residence. Before entering, I, hesitant about entering a strange house with three adult men, only one of which I was entirely comfortable with, called home just to let them know where I was and what I was doing. After that, feeling relatively secure, we entered, and proceeded to watch internet anti-Bush propaganda, movie trailers, and flash cartoons, as well as select clips from the Emmy-winning HBO miniseries, Angels in America. It was altogether rather pleasant.
Of course, there were minor problems. Seeing as the young woman with the automobile was too ill to attend our meeting, we were left with no transportation with which to get to our movie, Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence. My Guy, instead, called his mother to beg a ride from her, but that temporary solution fell through, leaving me to beg My Father to lend us his minivan for our convenience. Surprisingly, he obliged quite cheerfully, with none of the "I work all the time, don't make me drive all day" vibe he usually gives off. Perhaps he was just eager to meet My Guy in person. The two got along rather well, as they discussed mainly politics and law - which my Dad likes. In the end, both men parted with the generally feeling that the other was adequately cool.
The movie was nice, very colourful, I bought my own ticket and My Guy bought concessions. After the movie was over and the six of us (two more of My Guy's friends joined us on the way to the theatre) exchanged brief opinions of the film (general concensus: brilliant visuals, but overly long), we parted ways, the five men to see if the buses would be running after 6 pm on a Sunday night, me to rather guiltily call my parents to let them know that the movie was over and not-so-subtly hint that I would like a ride home. On the way home, my mother and I discussed the unexpected outcome of my supposed "date". Did My Guy just want to be friends? Was he gay? (That option was swiftly dismissed.) Did he really like me? I didn't know, and neither did my mother. I decided that I was expecting to move, relationship-wise, just a little too fast, and that I should wait it out. Even if, in the end, he just wants to be friends, it's better than nothing. Back in high school I had no friends at all.
The Sunday evening continued on as usual upon my return. I supped on hot pea soup and french bread, with the occasional mini-chocolate bar that was not thrown out of our front door to appease the ravening mobs of costumed children, and drank tea with the parents while watching Desperate Housewives.