#ladies and gentlemen I’m about to travel through time I bid you adieu

[thewatertowernews]

tinder treasures: an evening with michael cera

by Carrie Finkelstein

   You might not think me to be anything that special. I’ve never really stood out. In fact, you’ve probably seen me walking around campus and thought, “What do you know, another crunchy kid in birks and socks.” But a recent Tinder date says otherwise. I’m not just one of the unwashed masses. I am somewhat of a catch, let me tell you. I am witty, intelligent, kind of pretty, and now CONFIDENT. But don’t just take my word for it; ask Michael Cera.    Michael and I matched on September 25, 2017. His profile said his name was “Gary,” but I knew it was him: I immediately recognized the wispy, almost imagined stache that caressed his upper lip. I swiped right. He swiped right. Your classic love at first swipe scenario. I had always been a fan (I’m a teen-aged female filled with angst and a desperation to be “different”), but I played it cool. We talked about music and art and travel; I spent hours communicating with this remarkably cultured gentleman. It was hard to hide my feelings from my roommates, but I kept this courtship a secret lest they spill the deets to the paparazzi.    Finally, after two days of “will they/won’t they,” he finally popped the all-important question: “Would you like to come by my place for some wine?” I was ecstatic. Not only was I going on a date with THE Michael Cera, but now wine and possibly even poetry would be involved. We made plans to meet on the 29th and bid each other adieu. I knew then at that moment that I needed to prepare for this date as if my life depended on it. Several days and many Wikipedia rabbit holes later, I was ready. Lipstick on, hair slicked back, pants cuffed: it was go-time. I arrived and knocked on the door three times. And there he was.    It was him. Michael. Michael Cera. Nearly, but not quite speechless, I got out,    “Carrie. Good to finally meet you,” flashing him a smile, my signature dimple featured in all its glory.    “Gary. A pleasure to finally meet you as well.” He gave me a soft peck on the cheek before ushering me inside. To say I was slightly befuddled is putting it lightly. Gary? This is ,,,,Michael Cera. Why would he refer to himself as “Gary” when he and I both know his true identity? That’s when it hit me. Michael was preparing for a role; he was simply method acting.    The rest of the evening I played along, not wanting to disturb his artistic process. This went relatively well, although occasionally I would slip up and refer to him by his given name. A particularly embarrassing point of the night was when I asked what it was like to work with Ellen Page, and if he still had those classic short shorts. But, ever the professional, Michael did not break character. He simply laughed, and again stated that he was in fact “Gary.”    Touché, Monsieur Cera.    After a bit more chatter and a live performance of “Clay Pigeons” (at my request), I decided to call it a night. We walked back to my dorm and he kissed me goodnight. Ladies and gentlemen: it was exquisite. That kiss made me question all other kisses before. I was kissing THE Michael Cera and I was having the time of my life! Upon completion, we lingered and held each other’s gaze. “Well, goodnight, ‘Gary,’” I cooed with a sly wink.    “Hold on,” he said. I was startled by his abrupt interjection.    “Do you still really think I’m Michael Cera? Really? GOD! Every fucking time! I swear no matter how much I insist that I’m Gary, just plain ol’ good ol’ GARY, I’ll always just be Michael Cera to you all! Is there no mercy!? WHY? Why does this always happen? Will I ever have a genuine connection to anyone? Well, GUESS NOT! Because I’m fucking Michael Cera! And that’s all I’ll ever be! Right?! RIGHT!?”    A single tear ran down his cheek. I heard a faint, mumbled “whatever” as he passed through the dormitory door and out of my life. Gone forever. In my hand, I held the cork from our shared bottle. My only piece of him. But still, I can’t complain. That was one of the most compelling performances I’ve yet to witness. Goodbye, Michael Cera: a truly great actor.