The Very Ugly Mr. X

I recently had the opportunity to chat with the writer of a movie that a friend of mine had directed, and by chat, I mean exchange short text messages via Messenger after my friend the director, D, introduced us to each other. “X, my friend Noosha has some questions about the film.”

I'd been very impressed with this movie, so I'd googled it, curious to know who else, besides my friend, had helped bring this to the screen, and I'd noticed everyone involved was around my age. Cool, I'd thought. This is what happens when a bunch of creative people get together.

As someone who's always been fascinated by movies and written half a dozen unfinished screenplays, which are now safely tucked away somewhere, I felt honored to be able to ask this genius, this talented screenwriter, some questions. As soon as he sent me a message asking how he could help, I greeted him and typed my first question; he answered it. Then I typed my second question, to which he also replied. As I was typing my third and last question, this “genius” asked me if I wanted to sleep with him. What? I read the message again, almost sure I had misread it the first time. Nope! I hadn't.

I suddenly felt angry, not at him, but at myself and how I'd given him so much credit and idolized him in my mind for being so creative and writing such a powerful screenplay. Of course, being creative has nothing to do with being a gentleman, but I'd built this person up in my mind and created certain expectations. My first thought, of course, me being my sarcastic self, was Do you not own a mirror? When's your birthday? I'll buy you one.

So you can imagine how shocked I was when his next sentence started with the words, “My birthday is tomorrow... ” Crap! What's happening? Is Messenger reading, typing, and sending my thoughts to this guy? Thankfully, he continued, “My date had a family emergency, so she won't make it. I'm looking at your Facebook photo right now, and you look even better than her.” Creepy! What a pig! No offense to pigs.

And here I'd imagined him as this great man, this great philosopher who'd come up with a wonderful way to illustrate his thoughts on the screen. Silly me! I realized he was waiting for an answer. So I deleted my half-typed third question and, instead, replied, “No. I'm sorry you misunderstood. I only have film-related questions and zero interest in anything else.”

Maybe I'm old fashioned, but is this how people are? Mr. X didn't know anything about me, except maybe that I'm a film nerd, and I know that my friend D, having known me for several years, hadn't told him anything implying I was easy. He knows me too well. This man didn't even know whether or not I was in a relationship, and this was his behavior? I'm not saying people shouldn't show interest in someone they feel attracted to. I'm just asking: Do they have to do it in such a distasteful way?

Flashback to 2002, when I'd been in a car accident and I was sitting at home with two broken ribs and a paralyzed left hand talking on the phone to a lawyer who was telling me his office being far didn't matter because he would come to me, take me to dinner, offer me wine and flowers, and then take me home. This was when I had just greeted him and asked him if I needed to go to his office, concerned because I didn't have a car and was in no condition to drive. I hadn't even given the lawyer my name yet, and he was taking his clothes off.

Back to my chat with the genius... At this point, I didn't even care if I got an answer to my next question. This talented screenwriter had already lost my respect. I just wanted to end the chat in a polite manner, given that he worked with my friend, … my friend who would never hear any of this from me. A new message came from him. Maybe an apology? It definitely wasn't an apology: “If you sleep with me, I'll let you ask me anything.” Wonderful! The more this guy wrote, the uglier he got in my mind. I need to end this now! I thought. So I wrote, “Thank you for your time. I'm being called into a meeting. It was great chatting with you. Happy Birthday! Thanks again.”

I immediately put my phone away, feeling uncomfortable and disgusted. I had thought so highly of this man before I chatted with him, and now he seemed so ugly. I tried to focus on the fact that some of my questions had been answered and that I had just learned that how people act has nothing to do with how talented or artistic they may be.

I occupied myself with other things to avoid thinking about this bad experience and soon found myself focused on my writing. A little while later, I went to check my Twitter notifications, when I saw I had an unread message on Messenger. I opened it. It was from the now Very Ugly Mr. X. It read, “Your loss!”