Movie For One

I go to the movies alone. I love it and totally don’t mind not having someone else with me to watch the movie. Maybe it’s residual conditioning from having experienced the extreme opposite: going to the movies with a loudmouth malcontent who ruined the experience either by falling asleep during the movie or by being the guy who blurted out the plot because he figured it out ten minutes into the film…

Or maybe it’s because watching a movie with my mother meant enduring questions about a movie neither of us had seen. Questions that would have been answered if she had just shut up long enough to pay attention. I noticed that my brother picked up her bad habit. Watching Iron Man 2 with him last night on DVD was a question session. There is only so many times I want to say “Just watch the movie” before I begin to question the decision to continue watching the movie!

Going to the cinema alone, even watching a movie at home by myself, is akin to reading a book for me. It’s a moment when I can get lost in another world. A moment when I can let reality slip away and I can pretend I am somewhere else, or even someone else. I don’t have to concern myself with the opinion of a partner, I am free to enjoy or hate the movie without censure. It’s my secret single behavior, and I did it even when I was married.

This is especially true when I like a film so much that I see it repeatedly, as was the case back in 1995 when I went through a brief Meg Ryan/Paris obsession and went to the matinee of “French Kiss” for almost a week straight. (Thinking back at the time I was living in NY with my dad, and I probably needed the escape). It’s unlikely that I could have convinced any of my friends at the time to do so willingly.

So I did it today. Here in Texas, I went to the movies alone to see a matinee, and with that act I feel I have truly settled in. It’s never guaranteed to have better or a more constant companion than oneself.