date ideas

Fact #1: Your name is Root.
Fact #2: You have a friend named Sameen Shaw.
Fact #3: Your friend (see Fact #2) is also your only friend, and also your girlfriend.
Facts #4-∞: Your girlfriend (see Fact #3) is beautiful and perfect.

Sure, she never uses the word ‘girlfriend’ herself, and maybe she glares at you any time you use it. But she also kissed you, which you think is fairly conclusive proof that she is your girlfriend.

But anyway, Shaw (who is definitely your girlfriend) is sitting beside you on her bed reading a book in some language you don’t recognize (Persian? Wait, is Persian actually a language? Or is it Farsi? Arabic? You better look it up sometime when she’s not paying attention so you can impress her), while you peruse items 1-20 of your ‘date ideas’ file on your laptop, looking for something suitable. Today is Saturday, and Saturday is Date Night. Even though Date Night is really more like Date Day, since you can’t go out at night, per Shaw Family Rules. Unless you sneak out. That’s Date Idea #31, FYI. But you’re saving that one for later.

“What do you want to do?” You ask, turning to Shaw.

“Read this book.” She doesn’t look up. You roll your eyes, and lay your head on her shoulder.

“For our date, Sameen.”

She still doesn’t look up from her book. “I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

You slip your arm behind her head and around her shoulders, because she can’t move it away and keep hold of her book at the same time. She opts to continue holding the book. “I want to do whatever you want to do,” You say, not without a bit of playful mockery. You also notice that she didn’t deny that you’ve been going on dates (thus she didn’t deny that she’s your girlfriend (thus she is your girlfriend (not that you needed more proof, but it’s nice anyway))).

She huffs, and lays the book down on her knees. She still doesn’t move your arm away. “Why do you have to make this so difficult, Root?”

She always calls you Root. Never Samantha. Never even asked why you wanted to be called Root, why you don’t want the other name. Root is who you are, so that’s what she calls you. “I just want to make you happy,” You say, tilting your head to look up at her, and punctuating the statement with a wide-eyed poutysadface. Shaw always says “That stupid pouty face doesn’t work on me, Root,” but then she always does whatever you want, so you think it probably does work, and she just doesn’t want you to know.

Shaw scoots sideways, away from you, and your head slips off her shoulder and you tip over, your head landing on the mattress, laptop sliding off your lap and onto the bed. You stretch your arms out towards Shaw and look at her plaintively. “Help me.”

“No.”

You let your arms flop down onto the bed, and roll your eyes so only the whites show. “You killed me, Shaw.”

“Good.”

“I’m dead forever.”

“Good.”

“But you can bring me back.”

“Not very ‘forever,’ then, is it?”

You ignore this. “A kiss will bring me back.”

Shaw sighs. “If I kiss you, will you stop annoying me?”

You grin. “No.”

She leans over and gives you a quick kiss anyway, so you sit back up. Shaw gestures at your laptop, still lopsided and laying somewhat forlornly on the bed. “Why are you even asking me what I want to do? Aren’t you just going to use your date ouija board over there?”

“Maybe.” You pick the laptop up again. “But it’s more fun this way.”

“Just give that to me.” Shaw groans, and grabs your laptop. You lay your head on her shoulder again and watch her scroll through the list of potential dates. “‘Break into house,’ ‘break into school.’” She reads aloud. She starts to turn to you, forgetting how close your head is, and hits you in the eye with her chin. “Sorry,” She mutters, with an apologetic grimace.

“It’s OK.” You say, straightening up and rubbing your eye. Shaw moves your hand away with her own so she can make sure she didn’t do any lasting damage to your face. You’re OK with this, because you like it when she gets all doctor-y, and also because it brings her face very close to yours. Suddenly you’re thinking about how pretty her eyes are. She has very nice eyes. And also lips. Which you’re definitely staring at. Which you should definitely stop staring at. But instead of stopping, you don’t. Shaw pulls her hand back, evidently satisfied that your face remains unmarred, and (tragically) turns away, back your laptop. “How many of these involve breaking into things?”

“Eight.”

“OK, let’s do one of those.”

“We can’t do those.” You say, exasperatedly.

“Why not?”

“Numbers twenty-one and up have special requirements. See?” Obviously. You point out your very clear system of symbols that decorate all the prompts numbered higher than twenty.

Shaw looks at you incredulously, and then rolls her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just do this one.”

She points to a line that reads simply: ‘food’

***

You and Shaw walk to a place a little way down the street that serves a Philly cheesesteak sandwich that Shaw seemed very interested in. You could have asked Shadi to drive you, but it doesn’t seem very romantic to have your girlfriend’s mom ferry you to your date. What’s also not very romantic is taking a girl out to lunch but not being able to pay for it. You guess you’re not a very good girlfriend, because that’s exactly what you do. While you’re standing there awkwardly, realizing you are completely penniless and wondering whether you should just run out of the restaurant, Shaw steps around you, pulls some money from her pocket, and pays for your meals.

Things get even worse when your food arrives. To your dismay, you find that the salad you ordered is riddled with cucumbers, which you don’t like. You try to push them all to the side of the container, but the rest of the salad still tastes like cucumbers. You keep eating it anyway to stop this date from being any more of disaster, and hope Shaw doesn’t notice.

Shaw notices.

“Stop.”

“What?”

“If you don’t like it, don’t eat it.”

“It’s fine.”

“Obviously it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“You are so frustrating.” Shaw grabs the container of salad and pulls it over to her side of the table, then sits it on the chair beside her, out of your reach. She then takes a napkin, lays it in front of you, and plops down half of her sandwich. “You might as well eat some real food anyway.” She mutters.

***

Fact #∞+1: Your girlfriend loves you.