First Date EVER Conclusion

Their first date together was like a tender comedy script. The future of this moment would not be determined by her genuine interest in him, but by whether, or not she could tolerate saying, "I love you just the way you are," for the rest of her life.

Already, her patience was dissolving faster than ice in boiling water.

The evening began with their eyes locked at an awkward standstill the moment El presented her with a cheap, unopened pack of origami paper and suggested they spend the night creating something children would find intriguing: kirigami, a variation of origami that involved cutting paper to create artistic designs.

In the middle of their activity, Kaoru anticipates El to make the move that would turn their focus away from the scissors, and more toward her need for his attention.

Rather than paying attention to her obvious restlessness, El amplifies his precision to his paper cutting skills by slowing down each careful incisions. Kaoru, a native of Japan where kirigami has been a familiar, but uninteresting part of her life since grade school, smiles back in politeness more than with enthusiasm.

For the last half hour, El oversees the signs that included a "Hajimemashite," a colloquial Japanese greeting which means, "Nice to meet you," followed by Kaoru's strong Japanese accent that should had sparked a thought of consideration in his approach to impress her with Japanese culture, a subject she attempted to leave behind when she chose to study abroad. Neither her sigh, reeking with boredom, accompanied with her subtle comment, "I was born in Tokyo, but you know more about Japanese history and culture than most my family would care to know," could slow El's childish fervor of spewing historical facts about origami like an encyclopedia come to life.

Between each of breath, El somehow infuses the biography of George Michael's evolution beyond his success with 'WHAM!' into their conversation that quickly turns into a lecture-like, classroom experience regarding pop music history.

He adds with equal clarity, advice on how she could be compatible with both his mother and younger sister.

Unnoticed by El, is Kaoru's declining desire in spending another day together. Her interest is dying faster than the time it takes light to reach the moon, an analogy that could had nudged El's limited capability of identifying Kaoru's discomfort.

Unknowingly, for El, the embarrassment of his first impression of him has chiseled into her mind like a steel tool chipping away at a stone.

"Did you know my little sister is in the seventh grade? She sent me a 'Savage Garden' CD the other day, and claims they're just like 'WHAM!' because the group includes a lead singer and a guy, like Andrew Ridgeley, who plays the guitar, but never sings for some reason like Andrew Ridgeley. I don't think there can a group as equally as good as 'WHAM!' What do you think?"

Her eyelids struggle to stay open.

"Honestly," she wearily begins, "I never heard of "'WHAM!'"

Her response conjures a surprising, uncomfortable dismay that silences El, who is now speechless to Kaoru's unknowing. Identifying his confusion more quickly than El can recognize her boredom, Kaoru suggests an alternative.

"Can we go outside? I'm getting hungry," she says, winking her eye.

"I love noodles! How about you?" he exclaims. Kaoru giggles at his childish spirit.

Suddenly, his roommate's warning, the advice he gave him just before their night began, replays in his mind. "When she tells you she is hungry, don't say, 'Panda Express.' Don't say, 'Panda Express.' DON'T SAY, 'PANDA EXPRESS!'"

Naively, El regurgitates the last words that echo inside his mind.

"How about Panda Express?" he proposes.

Eager to shift away from the dull conditions, Kaoru accepts. Yet, inside, she craves more than a fast food atmosphere to set the kind of romantic mood that could alter the path of where their date is heading. She is unaware of the limitations to El's creative imagination that would satisfy Kaoru's romantic standard, one that included anything beyond the ideas he solely retrieves from the experiences of other classmates who attended high school prom, a rite-of-passage that El, instead, replaced with making "Happy Meals" and returning home to change his younger sister's dirty diapers.

"Do you have a car?" she asks.

Instead of admitting he has barely enough money to purchase an upgrade for a "Super-Size" meal, El offers what he believes is something no girl could refuse.

"How about we...walk? That should give us more time to converse more about origami and introduce you to the history of another great '80's band: 'A Flock of Seagulls!'"

Kaoru laughs uncomfortably. Out of politeness, she accepts his suggestion with a noticeable sigh of frustration-- a sound which, probably, is directed to the lack of desire involving subjects she has no interest in.

"Can you guess WHICH 'WHAM!' song I literally listened to everyday for two years?"

"I don't know any 'WHAM!' songs, but..."

El interrupts Kaoru as if she never breathed a word.

"That's okay. I'll tell you! It was 'Last Christmas!' I played that song over and over again in the cassette deck of my car; even during the summer!" he laughs, oblivious to her flatlining conscious.

As El continues into the night, Kaoru decides to retract her hand that was reaching out to hold his.

Preferring the security of her own empty pockets, she makes a deeper sigh that sounded more like a last breath...

for life.