the perils of

I interrupt my Clerks Notes series to talk about something... happy. See, yesterday I went on a really great date with a really great person. He came dressed in a grey Ateneo shirt and a cool dark green jacket. We bought separate tumblers of popcorn, and I got cheese, and he got sour cream, and by the end of  Murder on the Orient Express both flavors had mixed into a cheesy chivesy powder on our fingertips. I loved the movie. I really liked his jacket too. So we went to the store he had bought it from, and they carried the same jacket in a lovely rose color. As I tried it on, anxiety started to creep in. Is it too soon to get matching jackets? Is he okay with matching? Will we look ridiculous? "Can we be matchy, or would that be weird?" I asked him outright. "We can be matchy," he replied with a sweet smile. And so we were matchy. And it's weird because I've never been matchy with anyone before (anyone aside from my sister that is). But it's also