Film Frenzy

Between your great feedback, my instinct and the fact that Mister Darcy said “Bugger” last night, I’ve decided to go on a second date with him. We’re going to see The Next Three Days Saturday night.

I’m genuinely excited about this, but I’m kind of nervous because he was so nervous last week; so I’m nervous he’ll be nervous. Why was he so uncomfortable? I intimidated him? It’s his natural disposition? He’s on the lam? His ripcord wasn’t responding? This is confusing.

Nerves are like yawns. They’re contagious. So we’ll be stiffly sitting in our seats, minding our personal space, and then we’ll put our hands in the popcorn bucket at the same time and then look at each other and pull our hands out as fast as we can. The popcorn dance is tricky. It’s always a power play to see who removes their hand and who proceeds to take a handful.

Everyone has a movie date story. When I was 15 I went to see Armageddon with this totally hot older guy (think 18 not 45), but when I turned left to look at him, he was staring at the wall. And he didn’t move for several minutes. So finally, I tapped him on the shoulder, pointed at the screen and said, “The movie’s that way.” He looked at me, didn’t say a word, and turned back to the wall. Apparently he watched movies with a side eye.

My older brother once took a girl to the movies and said he kept looking over at her because he thought she was crying. The next day she told the entire grade he was a huge creep who stared at her the entire movie. So that went well.

We’ll see how round two goes. Meanwhile, Bob Loblaw hasn’t called me Babe in over 24 hours, so maybe he’s in Babe rehab. And when I got home from work last night, an attractive brunette was moving in next door.

I smell a sitcom!