Anyway, I learned from a classmate that she was from Singapore. She seemed very shy and it seemed like she could not speak English well.
I asked my friend about her and he told me she was an exchange student. Since it was nearly the end of the year I decided not to attempt to ask her out or even talk to her.
I would see her everyday in school though, and I could not help looking at her she was so beautiful.
As the weeks went by we made more and more eye contact, but being kind of awkward with girls I have never met and not being very knowledgeable on female flirting tactics I thought that she was just making eye contact with me because I couldn't stop staring at her.
One day she actually came up to me though and after apologizing a lot for bothering me she asked if I would please accept a piece of paper with her name and number on it and in return give her mine.
I was very surprised to say the least. American girls never would approach me in that way. Specially they would not apologize for wanting to give me their number; I'm usually the one who has to beg for the girl's number.
We exchanged numbers, and after the reality set in that the girl I have been dreaming about for months had just made a move towards me I became very excited and called her as soon as I got home.
I learned that she was an exchange student and was not allowed to have a boyfriend but was very interested in me and did not care about the rule since it was the end of the year.
After dating a while I took her to a dance club for her 18th birthday. We connected so well because she could communicate easily with me using a mix of English and Chinese.
We simply loved being with one another. At first I didn't want to get serious because I knew she would leave me and return to Singapore soon, but she was so amazing that I had to try to be with her so I asked her if she wanted to get serious and try for a long term (and soon to be long distance) relationship.
She was overjoyed that I asked her and we kissed and hugged for a couple of hours. We were together a few months and in that time together we had a strong and intimate relationship.
She has been the most amazing lover I have ever had and could not imagine intimacy being better with anyone else.
We decided to try to stay together and she is very devoted to me. We use electronic means to stay in touch and visit each other every few months.
I love her more than anything else and want to make her happy. She is not used to guys treating her the way I treat her.
She says that her ex-boyfriends in Singapore would never say, ?I love you? or be so gentle in bed. She said that that is why she is so shy. We are not getting married next year.
My message to other men and women out there who are in relationships like this is that they should stay positive because such relationships do work.
INT. RIALTO THEATER. POUGHKEEPSIE, NEW YORK, 1946
"The Rat Hole," locals dub this abandoned picture palace. The label is generous: urine-stained seats, a tattered screen, and gaping holes in the roof admitting bats and pigeons that roost in the rafters.
Two thirteen-year-old boys jimmy open a rusting exit door and race along an aisle toward the lobby.
PIMPLES, curly haired and wearing an ill-fitting Eisenhower jacket, edges up a rickety stairwell.
FRECKLES, a hyperactive redhead, discovers a frosted glass partition separating the lobby from the orchestra. Previous miscreants have left it intact, so Freckles assaults the partition with chunks of broken concrete and a crazy laugh.
INT. PROJECTION BOOTH
Pimples enters and looks around.
A battered projector, its glazed eye fixed on the floor, droops like a rejected lover. A box of dusty glass advertising slides sits on a broken chair. In one corner, a five-foot stack of cardboard posters rests against the wall. Pimples turns one over.
INSERT:
Beau Geste, announces the poster.
Modern Times, says the next.
BACK TO SCENE
Intrigued, Pimples inspects the pile of lobby cards advertising every movie the Rialto has featured for the past umpteen years. Then he runs to the tiny window through which once flickered giant images of Katy Hepburn and Cary Grant.
PIMPLES Hey, get up here, I found some stuff!
In a flash, Freckles is in the booth. Pimples displays a Casablanca poster.
PIMPLES Waddya think we ought'a do with this junk?
Freckles hefts an armload of cards and charges out of the booth.
FRECKLES I got an idea. Grab some...
Pimples scoops up a stack and chugs after his buddy.
INT. THE RIALTO - BALCONY
Taking turns, our delinquent heroes skim lobby cards down into the orchestra. Testosterone racing, they outdo one another, sailing the posters through a gaping hole in the screen.
FRECKLES I got The Informer. . .
And away it flies, landing in the third row. [$9500 from a future ebay sale, down the drain.]
PIMPLES I got Animal Crackers. . .
Off it flies, bouncing across a seat and skidding to a stop out of sight on the floor. [There goes another $5000.]
FRECKLES I got King Kong!
[$25,000 sails directly across the stage and through the hole in the screen.]
FRECKLES (CONT'D) Bull's eye!
And so it goes; until adolescent boredom sets in and Freckles says -
FRECKLES (CONT'D) This is a drag. Let's go downtown and score some chicks...
FADE OUT
As I sit here in my cozy Sierra foothills home, looking out at the deer munching my wife's recently planted hydrangeas, and dredging up that spring of 1946 - with freckle-faced Eddie and me checking to see if we've been spotted as we sneak out of The Rat Hole - my few remaining hairs turn grey. Why didn't I, at thirteen, flash on the future value of those now classic posters? How come I didn't realize that Joe, my son to be, could have had a free ride through college instead of washing dishes to pay his way? And couldn't I have imagined that I might someday be tooting around in a sleek new Mercedes, instead of the 1987 Jeep Cherokee with peeling paint now gracing our drive?
Water over the dam; what does thirteen-years old know? And anyhow, the Cherokee is loved and dependable and gets us to places any self respecting Mercedes would be petrified to navigate.
If, in 1946, I never flashed on the someday value of those posters, I also had no clue that the Rialto wouldn't be my last encounter with movie magic. It certainly wasn't my first. But for that we need a long -
FLASHBACK:
To 1937. Mom, brother David and I are living in Brooklyn. I don't even know what a movie is. So when my gentle mother leads me into a cavernous space with wall-to-wall seats and a huge rococo chandelier hanging above, I'm not sure what to expect. Sure, I know it has something to do with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, because Mom has read us the story from a picture book.
The lights go down. Pitch black. "Mommy..." I whimper. She squeezes my hand, so I feel safe. Then suddenly, magic: music, along with multicolored drawings such as those in the picture book. Except that they move; and I'm pulled along by some mysterious force, captive to the flickering frames - until Snow White's wicked stepmother, in her "old crone" permutation, suddenly dominates the screen. Then I freeze, bug-eyed, as she cackles "poison, poison!" with fiendish delight, readying the deadly apple for that rosy-cheeked, animated innocent.
I cower on my seat and scrunch into a ball. Then, as an approaching female someone mumbles "excuse me," I uncoil two fingers from the hand covering my eyes and gaze up at a gigantic wavering tush about to land on me. And it does! Fortunately for the forty years in film that lie ahead, the ponderous posterior doesn't crush me. Alerted by a muffled "Help!" beneath her and realizing that she's landed on a tiny person, the Ample One quickly stands, blurts out "Oh gracious, I'm so sorry, dear," and shifts to the next (thankfully unoccupied) seat.
Think of the films that might have been inspired by this shuddering experience had I the foresight to create them: movies featuring a squishy, plush-bottomed serial killer gleefully suffocating small boys in the impersonal darkness of gaudy picture palaces. A unique thriller genre; maybe it could have worked. I might have become another Wes Craven!
A cheeky introduction to movie making - to say the least.
Both Dao Jones & Dan Bessie are contributors for EditorialToday. The above articles have been edited for relevancy and timeliness. All write-ups, reviews, tips and guides published by EditorialToday.com and its partners or affiliates are for informational purposes only. They should not be used for any legal or any other type of advice. We do not endorse any author, contributor, writer or article posted by our team.
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