A Christmas party may seem an unusual choice for a second date, but it is Christmas time, and the invitation coming from this particular guy was not something I would have expected, so I was happy to say yes.
Our first date was also surprising. I almost did not go, since this is not the type of guy I would normally date. Physically, I mean. He’s got a gym body, and I’m not generally attracted to guys who live at the gym. Not just physically, to be honest, since there is a mind set that goes along with the muscles. Neither quality is particularly attractive to me.
Nor am I the kind that attracts guys who live at the gym. They normally only date in their class. (I’m slender, and a bookworm.) More things to be pleasantly surprised about with him.
Our first date was just for coffee. Well, hot chocolate for me. I’m not a coffee drinker. He was sweet. Soft spoken, kind of shy. I always find contradiction interesting. A guy with a body that draws attention, but a personality that isn’t comfortable with that attention is appealing. So, he’s not a jerk. Okay.
We talk about mundane things, and I didn’t see any red flags at all. There was no reason not to go with him to a Christmas party.
We meet at the address, and he’s waiting outside the door for me. In a mask. He’s wearing a mask. Not the kind that protects you from germs, but the kind people wear to masquerade balls. It just goes around his eyes, which are amazing. He has electric blue eyes, and the black mask really draws focus right to them. Right into them.
“Oh, god. I’m totally dressed wrong.”
I open my coat to reveal my favorite red and black color block sweater from high school.
“I figured I was supposed to wear a Christmas sweater but I don’t have any of those and then I remembered this one which isn’t really Christmas but it is red, or at least it has red in it, but I guess it looks more like a Star Trek uniform than a Christmas sweater, but had I known this was formal, I would have worn a black suit, I do have a black suit I could have worn. I even have a top hat which I never get the chance to wear and it would have been fun to wear it to a Christmas party, kind of like out of Dickens.”
He stood there grinning at me. Eyes sparking. God, those eyes. I don’t remember them being so blue when we met for coffee.
“Relax, you look fine.”
We go in and I look around and notice no one is dressed formally. The room was full of people in Christmas sweaters, as expected. We are greeted warmly by all his friends, and he introduces me as his date, and nobody seems surprised that he is wearing a mask.
A friend of mine wears cat ears on her head. She wore them to jury duty once, and the judge asked her why she was wearing them, but other than that, no one ever thinks twice about it. Maybe his mask is like that?
Then a young man comes over and asks him for his autograph.
He signs a photo of himself in a superhero costume and poses for a selfie with the young man.
“Who was that?”
“Oh, he’s a friend of my old roommate.”
Then another guy asks for his autograph, this time on his t-shirt.
“Why are people asking for your autograph?”
He smiles and holds up his phone to show me a photo of him in spandex, mask, and wings.
“Oh, right, I noticed you in that costume on your profile.”
One of his shots was a very sexy picture as a superhero, and he had a photo in his underwear as well, but I figured why wouldn’t he? Although he looks like he’s probably close to forty, or maybe just over, he’s in great shape.
“Here,” he offers me his phone, “Keep scrolling.”
I click on a video which looks professionally produced. He’s on a fire escape or something with steam rising all around him and he’s posing with his wings spread as if he’s about to fly. It’s a striking image.
“Is this TikTok?”
“Instagram.”
All his posts are of him in his mask and costume. Some of the shots are showing off his butt. One of the videos I clicked on was him pulling up his tights over his underwear, as the camera was behind him, focused on his magnificent ass. The abs were definitely sprayed onto the costume, but that butt was all him.
He’s grinning at me as the next video plays. It’s one of those quick shorts that is over before you can hit stop and in it he’s running his hand through his hair, and he has great hair, and then you see there’s a mirror behind him, and when he catches his reflection over his shoulder, he wiggles his butt.
There is something adorable about a hunky guy playfully wiggling his bottom for the camera, and it’s even more adorable to have that same guy watching you watch him do that on his phone in the palm of your hand.
Wishing I hadn’t worn my Star Trek sweater, as it was suddenly warm in here. Oh man, I’m blushing.
“Did you create this character?” As I hand him back his phone.
He looks at me strangely. “You don’t know who Nighthawk is?”
“No, I don’t know who Nighthawk is, but I can guess from your question that he’s a character in one of those cartoon books.”
“Comic books.”
“Isn’t a comic a cartoon?”
“Well, kind of…”
“So, this Blackhawk was drawn by a comic book illustrator…”
“Nighthawk.”
“Sorry, Nighthawk… and now he’s in one of those universe movies?”
He says the name of the film, which I immediately forget.
“…and you play him? Wow, that’s impressive. Good for you!”
Another strange look. “You haven’t seen the movie?”
“Why would I see the movie? I’m not twelve.”
Then I heard what I just said.
“Oh, but if you’re in it, of course I’ll go see it.”
“I’m not in the movie.”
“What?”
‘I’m not an actor.”
“That’s not you? It looks like you.”
“Yes, that’s me in the videos, but I’m not in the movie. I have my own costume.”
“Wait. I don’t understand. You didn’t create the character, and you’re not the actor who plays him in the movie. So… you’re a fan? You dress up as him. Like for Halloween?”
“At Comic Con.”
“Well, that’s the same thing, isn’t it?”
“There’s a big difference between Halloween and Comic Con.”
“Yep. One, they give you candy. The other, you pay admission.”
He laughs, but I can see I’ve hurt him.
“You don’t get it.”
“No, I don’t.”
Change the subject. Quick. Maybe there’s eggnog or something? I can’t stand eggnog, but that is what people drink at Christmas parties, right?
“I have half a million followers.” He wasn’t bragging. He was defending himself, when I shouldn’t have made him feel attacked.
“On an app.”
Good lord.
Why can’t I just appreciate the hunky Superman for the sexy sweet guy he is, and be grateful that he’s attracted to Clark Kent?
‘You have half a million followers because you look like that, and you post photos of your body. Of course people want to see a hot guy dressed like a superhero.”
That wasn’t the fix I’d hoped it would be. The guy has earned a huge following by acting out his fantasy, and he has every right to be proud of that, as well as the hard work that went into building a body worthy of Marvel, and I’ve completely emasculated him in three words.
I try apologizing, and complimenting him, but it’s too late. The damage was done. It will be an awkward evening. Perhaps a Christmas party isn’t such a good idea for a second date, after all.
Searching for Slater 