when popcorn makes you cry
why I cried after going on a date and harsh realizations
An anecdote of me dating in Singapore during my 20s.
I sat there in the movie seat, gritting my teeth to make myself not cry.
Pull it together, Emily.
It was this overwhelming wave of salt, disgust, anger, and pain sitting there in a haze in my front lobe. I wanted to cry. I was infuriated by this small trigger—why was I about to cry over popcorn? This popcorn was a stupid, pathetic hairline crack that was about to burst the tear dam I had. I’m strong, but recently I felt like I’ve been too strong and I just wanted to be weak for once.
I was sitting in a movie theater with a guy I had just gone on a second date with. In the first few minutes of meeting, he awkwardly stands there and doesn’t really engage. Upon reaching me, he stands there and I ask him if we want to get tickets soon.
I feel irritated because he told me to meet earlier and he’s already 10 minutes late. He barely greets me and doesn’t really start a conversation. Didn’t you ask me on this date? On text, he’e enthusiastic and in person, he’s lukewarm. I feel like I’m handling the entire situation. Should we get the movie tickets then? Do you want to stand in line for popcorn first?
We head into the movie room and sit. He opens the popcorn and realizes it’s the sweet popcorn, not the salty one. He says, “Oops, this isn’t what we ordered. Are you okay with that?”
At the cash register, he had asked me what I had wanted and I told him I liked the buttery, salty popcorn. I don’t even know if he ordered that.
He proceeds to eat it and just sits there. I felt like I would’ve gotten up and asked for a different one.
I don’t know why I wanted to cry at that point.
Wait actually, I do. I wanted to cry because I felt like I was wasting my time with this person I barely knew. I was just sad, disappointed by the fact that I knew this wasn’t going to work out and it left a bad taste in my mouth. I wasn’t going to change someone and I learned that from my previous relationships. There were similar red flags I saw on our first date. Him walking meters ahead of me and not waiting for me when we crossed the street, which is honestly one of my biggest pet peeves. Him finishing all the nachos at dinner without asking if I wanted some. He lacked social awareness and social cues—I realized I wanted someone who would care and take care of others.
He grew up as a single child and I really felt that.
A big part of me is lonely, and I always look in awe of the people who are so in love—sometimes I wish I could have that too. I want my person too. Someone who just gets it. This encounter just made me realize how much more I wanted that.
I want a best friend. I want someone who’s equally happy about living a happy and fulfilling life, someone to be silly with, someone to go through the ups and downs knowing he wouldn’t leave me, someone who has a backbone, and someone who can be assertive or handle things. I’ve always been the one planning, fixing, and handling. Sometimes I wish I had someone to lean on too. I want a big type of love, not something meek and quiet. I don’t want someone lukewarm or passive.
After the movie, we left awkwardly and I went downstairs to buy Wing Stop. I walked home, bag in tow with my 8 piece meal, with tears streaming down my face. It just didn’t stop and out of all the days someone would ask for instructions, a woman stopped me to ask where Farrer Park MRT was. Like clockwork, I brushed a tear aside and straightened up, pointing in the right direction to be helpful. She noticed my crying and gave a glance of worry, but thanked me and went on her way. I felt like that was commonly me, someone who could just pull herself together and brush aside the tears to get things done.
I guess the crying came from something deeper—that every bad date just reinstates that perhaps I actually won’t find someone or maybe I just have high expectations of people.
That out of all the people on this planet, I cannot find someone to love me the way I could love him.