Man-Size (man_size) wrote,
Man-Size
man_size

Happiness is when things are just happening

SBX wanted a romantic comedy and she wanted one next to me in a movie theatre on a Friday night. I wanted Ice Cube's BARBER SHOP or Jackie Chan's THE TUXEDO. Or, if she was truly gumming for a genre that Meg Ryan has single handedly ruined and made blasphemous with her movie career, we could have watched my copy of BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'S, or SID & NANCY, or ON THE WATERFRONT -- the be all end all of romance flicks. Instead, we went to Cobble Hill Cinema's and within the first 5-minutes of the "plot" unfolding, I was livid. I saw the beginning, middle and end, all broadcast in big Hollywood letters from the get go. Bah! I adore Reese Witherspoon. She's great in ELECTION and I watched FREEWAY five times and plan to own it on DVD. But making babies puts your radar in danger and allows a career to careen and make bad artistic choices for the sake of diapers, health insurance, and a college education at the "very best schools." Which is why Reese went Doris Day on us. Ergo, SWEET HOME ALABAMA.

I've never fallen asleep in a movie theatre before. That freaked me out. I love film, I studied film in college, I made films, I write/draw comix which is film's big bad brother. BUT -- I rarely get to go to the movies these days, much less find time to watch them (which is why I have over 100 DVD's still sealed in factory wrap), and that is why I was allowing SBX her two-hour choice of escape sans consulting my expertize. And the purchase of tickets to wanton cinema was akin to spinning a globe and stopping it with your finger for final destination. Only, we wound up in the resort area of the Bermuda Triangle where Carol Channing was singing show tunes at the tiki-lounge. Bring me the razor and oil now, please.

I think half the reason I nodded off was depression. I spent all day working hard on finishing the final pencils for TANGLED WEB 20 and wanted some serious play time. The air was surreal: a mixture of wind and still temperature. I couldn't figure out if it was supposed to be cold or hot. It was odd. It threatened to rain yet teased to remain a perfect calm. I almost carried my frisbee for "just in case." I wanted SBX and I to take advantage of this weather and go buck wild. Get drunk and dance. Storm streets and throw down. I didn't have details or plans, just desires. I wanted a story to tell.

SBX wanted something similar but on a more down to earth level. She wanted our relationship to have more context outside the drama that currently permeates our romance. She wanted us to enjoy some pop-culture together so we could be on the same page and not always pontificate our individual work days, or pine on about the same old/same old: my working solo in a vacuum, desiring a gal-pal who was more available and not be in competition with divorce, kids, etc. SBX wanted to experience a non-labored evening with her Man-Size rather than feel alienated by each other's daily perdition. By going to a damn movie we could share feelings and thoughts and criticize everything from the story to the performance to the sexy hot tan leather pants SBX was wearing to why the sky is blue.

Embraced by the schizophrenia of the weather, we walked back to my place and kept it fairly quiet. There was no debate that the movie sucked. That the movie sucked two-hours of our small time together. My eyes watered at the crime and SBX's face turned red. We had been bamboozled by the promise of a dating tradition and fooled into thinking that watching a bad movie would make us a better couple. Maybe it will. Maybe it already had. But it didn't matter just then. It was going to be okay. Our inability to throw another fisticuff at Cupid's nasty joke turned into romance. Hearts melted, cheeks brushed shoulders, lips glanced, and pants got tight. We knew there would be no more discussion.
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