Jello

Many years ago I realized that my life was just like Julia Roberts in the movie My Best Friend's Wedding. (Ok, maybe not JUST like... but close). For a while (about a year) I even had one of those "if we're not married when we're 30 let's get married. (He's now engaged, and I'm thrilled for him). This is the conversation that currently I identify with:

Julianne: Only a minor insight, you understand. Maybe Michael couldn't commit to this marriage so he created a delusion, produced an unconscious, psychosomatic manifestation of... I'm better with food. Okay, you're Michael, you're in a fancy french restaurant, you order... creme brulee for dessert, it's beautiful, it's sweet, it's irritatingly perfect. Suddenly, Michael realizes he doesn't want creme brulee, he wants something else.
Kimmy: What does he want?
Julianne: Jello.
Kimmy: Jello?! Why does he want jello?
Julianne: Because he's comfortable with jello, jello makes him... comfortable. I realise, compared to creme brulee it's... jello, but maybe that's what he needs.
Kimmy: I could be jello.
Julianne: No! Creme brulee can never be jello, you could never be jello.
Kimmy: I have to be jello.
Julianne: You're never gonna be jello.

I went on a date the other night with someone I've known most of my life. It was fine. Enjoyable even (and Texas Roadhouse- delicious), but I went home and talked with my roommate about it. Our conversation while sitting on the bathroom counter went something like this: 

Me: it was nice. 

Her: So, do you like him?

Me: Yes, but... no. I mean, I like him, but I'm not interested in dating him. 

Her: Do you think you could ever be interested?

Me: No. He's.... Jello. And I want creme brulee. 

And she knew exactly what I meant (because she is awesome that way).

Essentially in this story, I'm Michael, given the choice of waiting for the Creme Brulee, or going with the Jello that is currently present and pursuing me (this was our third-ish date). Jello is good, but jello is not creme brulee. And I'm a little sad, because Jello boy is nice he is comfortable to be around (in fact this is one of a procession of Jello boys that have been around recently). We surprisingly have a lot in common, and I enjoy spending time with him, but I've got to stop letting him buy me dinner. Because when I comes down to it, I can't date him. I certainly can't marry him. It's just, if I'm going to make that kind of giant step and put my faith in someone like that it's got to be someone good. (Also, I just can't really think about any sort of hand holding, etc... it's too weird. I've known him since we were probably 10 or 11). Someone creme brulee. Or at least delicious jello with the cool whip and the fruit chunks.  

 

And when I someday (soon?) have the guts to tell Jello boy that I 'just want to be friends' or something equally cliche and devastating, this is how I'll feel:

Julianne: I'm... pond scum. Well, lower actually, I'm like the fungus the feeds on pond scum.
Michael: Lower. The pus that infects the mucus, that cruds up the fungus that feeds on the pond scum... 

 

Which is why I probably ought to do it sooner rather than later, so I don't feel quite so pussy/pond scummy. We just couldn't be friends after. Boo.