Chapter Three How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, dir. by Donald Petrie #5
“I’m sorry, I had an early morning meeting,” Peter tells him, wiping at his eyes.
Eli doesn’t say anything. He just wants to go back home, to call this entire night done and let Peter off easy. But he still
wants to see the movie.
“We should go,” Eli tells him, spying Peter’s empty plate. “If you’re finished.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course. The movie probably begins soon, huh?”
“Yeah...” Eli grabs his phone, desperate to give himself something to do. He rereads the same posts and Instagram captions
that he read before Peter arrived, scrolling endlessly until the check is awkwardly delivered.
“I can pay,” Peter offers. “Since I was late. And because I spilled soup on you.”
“Thanks,” Eli huffs. He certainly isn’t going to pretend like he’s grateful. It’s the least that Peter can do.
So maybe chivalry isn’t dead? Eli thinks. Not that anything could salvage this night. Eli believes that Peter could take him back to his apartment and give
him the best sex of his entire life and he’d still consider the night a loss.
At least then I could’ve gotten eaten out.
Peter reaches into the chest pocket of his hoodie, then pulls his hand out and goes for the other pocket before he checks
his pants pockets. He gropes his entire body, and all Eli can do is sit there and watch as the realization dawns slowly on
Peter’s face. Well, that and he imagines just what Peter’s body would feel like if those were Eli’s hands instead.
God, he needs to get laid.
“I think I forgot my wallet at my apartment,” he finally admits.
Eli sighs, leaving his credit card in the server book. He’s not even mad, he’s just... he’s numb. He has no emotions over
having to shell out the eighty dollars for dinner.
He simply doesn’t care. That’s what he tells himself.
“I’m sorry,” Peter apologizes when the check is returned, and Eli leaves a generous tip for the mess left behind. “I can pay
for the movie tickets?”
With what money? he thinks without really meaning to. “I’ve already bought them.” Eli stands, grabbing his jacket. “Let’s just go.”
***
Eli’s been to enough movies to know they have plenty of time to spare, despite his love for previews and the Nicole Kidman
ad that plays at the start of every movie; it’s no big deal if they miss them. Peter trails behind Eli as they walk up the
street to the theater, and their tickets are scanned before they ride the escalator to the second floor to join the concession
line. Not a word is exchanged between them, the lights giving Eli ample time to reassess the damage to his shoes.
At least the wet spot at the front of his pants has dried.
Peter’s phone begins to ring again as they approach the front of the line, and Eli can make out the name Joseph (Zelus) on the screen before Peter looks around like he’s been caught doing something illegal.
“I, uh... I have to take this.” He shows the screen to Eli.
“Okay?”
He can’t even pretend to care anymore. At least during the movie, there’s no expectation to talk. It’ll be two hours of blissful
silence, some laughing at Daniel Craig’s terrible Southern accent. So long as Peter doesn’t spill soda on Eli, the date can
end peacefully.
Peter steps to the side of the line, near where the bathrooms and the soda fountains are, sticking a finger from his free
hand in his ear like he can’t hear the voice on the other end of the line because of the ruckus of the theater.
Clearly frustrated, Peter waves to Eli, then points toward the door on the first level.
Eli nods in acknowledgment, watching as Peter marches down the stairs and walks out the front door.
Eli finally makes his way through the A-List line, grabbing the gourmet cheddar-and-caramel popcorn that he’s rewarding himself
with for the awful way the night has gone. He pauses at the drink fountains once his DrPepper has been obtained, hoping that
Peter will make his way back inside any moment now.
Five minutes pass, then ten, then fifteen, and Eli has to figure that Nicole Kidman has wrapped things up by now.
He takes a screenshot of their tickets and forwards one to Peter, so he’ll have the theater and his seat number before he
follows the late-comers into the movie, stepping over people to get to his seat. It’s almost impressive, just how much this
man has managed to ruin Eli’s night.
It’s like he feels somewhere past frustration and annoyance. Because he isn’t actually angry. Though he is annoyed at Peter
for ruining his shoes, for being late, for barely saying a word to him.
He’s just ready for the night to be over with. For the credits of the movie to roll so he can walk back to the bus stop and go home.
Eli doesn’t really notice at first that Peter hasn’t made a grand reappearance, stumbling over strangers in the dark to get
to his seat. He’s distracted for most of the first act, laughing with the rest of the audience. But then he realizes that
Peter still hasn’t shown up. He pulls out his phone, carefully angling it against his chest and turning the brightness down
before he goes to his texts with Peter. There’s no reply, no “Sorry, emergency.” Or “Give me five more minutes.”
Nothing.
Eli begins to check his phone so frequently—wondering if Peter’s safe, if something bad has happened to him, or maybe if he
just stumbled into a different theater by accident—that he can tell it’s bothering everyone around him, earning a side-eye
from the guy sitting by Peter’s empty seat.
“Sorry,” he whispers, putting his phone down and trying his best to focus on the movie.
But the magic is lost. As everyone around him loses it at the jokes, Eli just sinks deeper and deeper into his seat, unable
to enjoy himself. He sighs, grumbling to himself and making a mental note to book another ticket before the movie leaves theaters.
It strikes him just how sad this is. How, despite actually trying to get back out there, giving someone a chance, he still wound up watching a movie all on his own.
Pathetic.
Then he does something that he’s only ever done once before, when a movie was so horrendously boring that he spent most of
the runtime on his phone, not having to worry about bothering any other moviegoers because he was the only one in the theater.
He walks out of the theater before the credits roll.
Not even the popcorn tastes good anymore, the soda long gone.
Eli tucks his phone into his pants pocket, and, after a quick trip to the bathroom to pee and wash his hands, rides the escalators down to the ground floor as he attempts to untangle his headphones from being wrapped around themselves in his pants pocket.
He doesn’t even realize that Peter is still outside at first. Not much thought is given to the man on the steps that lead
up to the theater, his back hunched, his face hidden from the cold. It’s only when he hears his name through the SZA album
playing in his ears that Eli freezes and turns, catching Peter as he runs up to him.
“Wait, Eli. Where are you going?” Peter asks him, the breath puffing around his soft-looking lips. “The movie’s not over,
right?”
“No, it’s not,” he says. “You would’ve known that if you were in the theater with me. You know, like you should’ve been.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” He shows Eli the phone screen where the call is muted. “There was a situation at work, and
I had to—”
“Actually? Don’t bother. I’m not interested.”
“But I—”
“It’s whatever, Peter. It’s clear that this night didn’t mean that much to you, or else you wouldn’t have spent so much of
it ignoring me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he says. “I was actually looking forward to this date.”
Eli scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“Eli, I—”
“How about we cut our losses, huh? It’s clear that I’m not your type, you’re not interested, and I’d rather go out with a
guy who will actually put down his phone and pay attention. So, we can call it a night here.”
It’s not like he’s ever going to see this man again. Not if he has anything to say about the situation.
“So, thanks.” Eli doesn’t like the wetness behind his eyes. “Thanks for embarrassing me, for wasting my time, and for ruining my shoes.”
He tucks his freezing hands back into his jacket. Maybe that last comment was harsh, but he doesn’t care. It’s not his responsibility
to spare Peter’s feelings. At least this way, maybe he’ll take the night to heart, and Eli has saved whomever Peter bothers
next from a night of being stood up and ignored.
“Have a good night, Peter.”
Desperate to leave the situation before he truly loses it, Eli walks as fast as his short legs will carry him, praying that
Peter hasn’t followed him, that the man isn’t suddenly inspired to course correct the entire night by making some passionate
plea to forget the movie, to go out drinking, to karaoke, or bowling, or... anything at all.
Eli skips getting on the bus right away, choosing to walk down Divisadero to help clear his head. Peter doesn’t reappear,
doesn’t text Eli or try to call him or anything. Eli doesn’t even know if he wants Peter to do any of that. But it’d be nice
to be fought for.
The bus comes and, as he steps on and scans his phone to pay the fare, his Spotify auto-plays Laufey. He can’t resist laughing
to himself at the absurdity of the night.
Patricia and Rose are both still awake when he walks through the door to the apartment, the loud sounds of an argument between
two women on whatever Real Housewives season they’ve put on to kill time in the background, and the smell of whatever they made for dinner lingers.
“Hey, there he is!” Patricia says with a hopeful smile. “How was it?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Eli says. His instinct is to go right to his bedroom, but he avoids that, knowing that shutting
himself off right now might do more harm than good. He falls onto the couch, laying his head on Patricia’s lap while Rose
pulls his legs over to stretch across her own.
“Want a drink?” Rose offers. “Or ketamine?”
“No.” Eli throws his arm over his eyes. “To both.”
“Want to talk about it instead?” Patricia asks.
“He was over an hour late.”
Rose gasps almost hilariously loudly. “You’re joking.”
He shakes his head. “I’d already eaten by the time he got to the restaurant. And I was a bottle and a half into the soju.”
“Did he call you?” Patricia asks.
Again, Eli shakes his head. “Then he just kept apologizing for everything. Which was annoying as hell. He pretty much only
gave one-word answers, never really asked about me, and then got weird when I said I’m an assistant. The vibes were just incredibly
off the entire time.” Eli pauses. “Oh, then he spilled soup on me.”
“I can see that...” Patricia glances at Eli’s shoes left at the door. “Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Eli continues. “He then proceeded to tell me he forgot his wallet, leaving me to pay for dinner after
he offered.”
“Huh.” Patricia’s brows furrow together.
“What?” Eli looks up at her. “Do you know something?”
“No, just... my friend said that Peter was such a sweet guy. I’m just surprised.”
The way Peter looked at him certainly hadn’t helped, that helpless expression, like he was a lost dog. Which was hilarious
coming from someone as tall and strong looking as Peter.
In fact, he feels more and more like a total asshole the longer he dwells on it.
“It was like he’d never been on a date before,” Eli tells them, trying to laugh off the guilt that has crept up on him. “Like
I was his first.”
“Well, how do you know you weren’t?” Rose asks him.
“There’s no way.” Eli shakes his head in disbelief. “The dude is hot. Like stupidly attractive. There’s no possible way I
was his first date.”
Though when he gives it even another second of thought, the blend of being gay, Korean, and growing up in a small Georgia town is a combination of explosive proportions.
Patricia continues, though. “People have different lives, different experiences. I didn’t start dating until college. Neither
did Rose. Neither did you .”
“That’s normal,” Eli says, digging his hole even deeper. “He can’t be any younger than me, and you don’t go on your first
date when you’re nearing thirty.”
Patricia shoots him a firm glare. “Okay, now I think you’re being unfair.”
“Even if it was...” Eli swallows, trying to assuage that bitter taste on his tongue from putting his foot in his mouth.
“He skipped out on basic human decency. Not a single text to tell me he was late. Taking work calls instead of focusing on
me?”
Though he realizes what that sounds like out loud, Eli knows he isn’t in the wrong. When you go on a date, you expect a certain
level of attention to be dedicated to you. And in return, you give your attention to the other person.
“It’s Dating 101,” he says.
“No, no...” Patricia tells him, focusing on the TV. “You’re right. I’m just saying a little sympathy might go a long way.
You don’t know Peter’s story.”
“Because getting any personal information out of him was like wrestling an alligator.”
“An alligator?” Patricia asks. “How would you know what that’s like?”
“Well, you know... whatever,” Eli stammers.
“You know,” Rose starts to say, picking a loose thread from Eli’s pants, “there should be a Dating101.”
Eli glances toward her, trying to focus his attention back on their show. “What do you mean?”
“I mean for people who like haven’t gotten the chance to date, or don’t know how to, or are scared. You should like... I don’t know, be able to hire someone to teach you how to date, be a good partner.”
“That’s just the movie Hitch ,” Eli says.
“Is it? Damn... I thought that was original.”
“ She’s All That too, kind of?” Patricia’s eyes go wide as she turns back to Eli. “You could She’s All That Peter!”
“That could be fun!” Rose tells him. “Teach him how to communicate, how to stop focusing on work, loosen up, and be less of
a nervous wreck.”
“You’re both joking, right?” Eli groans. “Also, that’s not the plot of She’s All That .”
“I said ‘kind of,’” Patricia continues. “You can’t say that doesn’t sound like fun.”
“Yeah, let me just spend the next month teaching a grown-ass man how to date. That seems like a great way to spend my time.”
“You never know. Maybe under that hard, anxious exterior sits the man of your dreams.”
“The exterior is not the problem,” Eli promises her. “Trust me.”
Peter will join the roster of men, both real and fictional, whom Eli likes to conjure up while he masturbates. And that’s
where he’ll remain.
“You have to admit, it’d be pretty fun. Like a boyfriend rehabilitation kind of thing.” Patricia nudges him.
“Yeah, no,” Eli promises to both himself and the girls. “I relinquish all responsibility for this man.”
He can’t be expected to babysit a grown man, to teach him the basics of social etiquette, how to talk to someone you go on a date with. It’s not his job.
“Peter is not my problem.”