I want ALL the butter you have

There is nothing better than a cheap movie theater. I love going to the discount movie theater in the next town over. I get two people into the movie, get popcorn, and get two drinks for less than ten bucks plus I get to see all of the Marvel movies more times. I go to the discount theater with my best friend quite a lot.

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One day back in June Erin and I went to the discount theater. After purchasing our tickets I went up to the snack bar. A teenage boy, who looked as if he should have been named Chad, was working. I don’t pay a lot of attention to teenage boys, they’re so little, they just need to have their hair ruffled. Instead I pay attention to popcorn. I take my popcorn VERY seriously. I walked up to the counter and said “I would like a large popcorn, a diet coke, and a cherry coke with no ice.”

“You just want the popcorn plain,” Chad asked.

“No. I want salt and as much butter as you can legally put on it.”

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“I… I don’t think there is a legal limit on butter.” You can never be too sure.

“In that case I would like ALL the butter you have.” I take my butter very seriously. If I am paying for my popcorn I would like it to be very buttery and as unhealthy for me as possible. Chad judged me pretty hardcore for a minute.

The woman behind Erin and I chimed in. “I would like that much butter on my popcorn as well.”

“You can’t because I want ALL of the butter they have.”

In that moment, Erin and I have since decided, that boy fell just a little bit in love with me. I was not flirting, I was being myself, I am obnoxious and if I am not funny I don’t know who I am. Erin’s husband listened to the story one day and confirmed what Erin had told me, clearly that boy had fallen in love with me… at least I got a lot of butter on my popcorn, which was what I wanted.

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Uncomfortable Singles

So… I was supposed to attend a church singles event on Thursday night but my friend Kim and I decided to skip the uncomfortable awkwardness and get ice cream instead. I love ice cream.

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What really happened was Kim got lost on her way to my house and we were already going to be late (plus neither of us are in the market) so we got ice cream. It’s all right. I have lots of uncomfortable stories about being single without adding a church singles event to the mix.

I cannot say how many times I have been out somewhere with one of my married friends (usually one who was already married at 20) when she turns to me and asks me to tell one of my “single-life stories.” It is not always phrased that way but I know what they are asking for. They are asking for the stories about going out and being hit on, most single women in my age group have stories that fall into that genre and I am not sure any of them are happy about it.

There are two sub-genres of the “single-life story;” 1) Look at me, I’m an idiot and 2) Look at me, I’m hilarious. Both can be loosely translated to “let me tell you about a time when I was super uncomfortable.” Most of my stories fall into that second category (if a story isn’t funny then why am I telling it?). I tell them about shutting down guys who come on too strong at a bar or the story of how I accidentally made the concessions stand worker at the theater fall in love with me (I was not being flirtatious I just wanted enough butter on my popcorn to close a horse’s arteries.)

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I take my popcorn very seriously.

The thing is that I am not entirely sure why my married friends want to hear these stories. Every single one of my single-life stories are about how uncomfortable dating is and how awful being hit on can be. Honestly, the people who are my age and already married have no idea how good they have it. They do not get roped into attending church “singles” events and other places that are specifically designed for single people to find out who else in their social group is on the prowl. Those kinds of events are not my jam, I am not the most social of butterflies and those are the sorts of events that make me feel like I need to go back to my cocoon or at least embrace the lifestyle of a moth.

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To be single in a society that prizes the idea of being married as an end goal is to be uncomfortable. I am not uncomfortable with being single. I am only uncomfortable when people I do not know try to talk to me. This is my life.

I just want to be posh

I am neither “normal” or “cool.” True story. If I was either of those things my childhood and adolescent years would have been very different. Now that I am not in my adolescence it is not a big deal but back then it was. One of things that makes me not normal or cool is that I have issues with how people use their silverware. Silverware usage is quite possibly the only thing that I am meticulous about. I am also crazy about it to the point that while I was being a cabin leader at a camp this summer I corrected the way children cut there meat.

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(No no no! Your knife goes in your right hand and your fork goes in your left and you do not switch.)

I did it enough times that the other “adults” (my camp family/friends) noticed, laughed, and remembered. I realize that table etiquette is not that actually that big of a deal but I was taught a lot of these things at a very young age and it is to me. Hence the fact that I am neither exactly “normal” or “cool.”

Saturday I went to my friend Amanda’s wedding. Amanda is a friend of mine from camp which means I got to sit at the special camp table. As a special treat (not really, I’m an adult.) I got to sit at the grown up camp table and not with the kids down at the other end. Now I am not sure how it happened but I came back to the table after getting my food and heard the two people on my left were discussing the fact that they cut their meat then switch hands. When I sat down Kaitlin, who was on my right, said “who was it that was teaching campers how to cut their meat?” Just as I said “yeah you aren’t supposed to switch hands and if you are especially posh you clean your knife off on the meat like this.”

“It was you!”

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That started a brief conversation involving all the different rules about silverware use, including the new ones I learned in the land of manners.

What you have to understand is that I just know these things and now they kind of matter to me. It isn’t really that I want to be posh or fancy it is just that once you know the right/easy way to do something it can bother you to watch someone do it wrong. It is almost painful to watch and I really am trying to help.

Then I went up to the bar and got a glass of wine with my friend Beckah, I needed it for the toasts. We were sitting there clinking glasses, celebrating Amanda’s wedding when Beckah, who has a death grip around the top of her wine glass looks over at me holding my own wine glass gently with the stem between two fingers, using my pinky and thumb for support.

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“Look, you even hold your wine glass like a lady!”

Everyone around me, with whom I have had the previous conversation about cutlery, looked at my glass and laughed a little.

“I just want to be posh you guys. Come on.”