Going to the movies

I’ve always enjoyed going to the cinema alone. 

Well, not always. When I was a teenager I couldn’t think of anything worse. I used to sometimes see people at movies alone and think there was nothing sadder in the world. “Please God,” I remember thinking, “Please God don’t let me end up as one of these losers who goes to the cinema alone.”

When I was living in New York six years ago I got used to taking myself to the movies for something to do when I had no friends to play with. Last year, taking my broken heart to escape in front of the big screen for a couple of hours proved very therapeutic. I guess the experience is so immersive that it actually managed to take me away from my own misery for a little while. Now, it’s concentrated April time. It’s something I do for myself, just because I enjoy it. 

So, yup, I am now regularly one of those losers who goes to the cinema alone. 

Today has been a rainy bank holiday, so I went to see ‘What if?’. Basic plot rundown (without any spoilers): Wallace and Chandry (interesting name choices, I thought that too) meet at a party. She has a boyfriend. He is fairly recently heartbroken. They become best buds. But are secretly in love with each other. 

Well, doesn’t that raise a lot of sh** for me to think about. I have only just today decided to be friends with the dude I went out with on Friday night. Why not? He was good company, although I didn’t fancy him at all. And then there’s Irish Two who I do fancy, but know I can’t be with because he has no emotion. Irish Two and I are going swimming together at 7am tomorrow. He really has become one of my best friends. Do I still want to have sex with him? Hell yes. But we won’t. Because we’re genuinely friends. 

All this was running through my head during the movie. That, and how noisy the person behind me was eating their popcorn. 

Then comes a whole part of the movie where Chandry’s boyfriend is working abroad. She struggles. She hates it. At this point I found myself wiping unexpected tears off my face. 

It took my right back to last summer when my ex first went to work in New York and started treating me like a piece of sh** on his shoe. I remember sitting on my sofa with a friend, trying to act all happy and cool, but my voice cracking as I told her, “I’m finding this really difficult”, and then dissolved into tears. Now, Chandry’s boyfriend in the movie is an OK guy. He doesn’t treat her like poo, but she still struggles. It made me feel so sorry for myself. I found myself apologising to my heart for putting it through all that. Apologising in my head, you understand. I wouldn’t talk during the movie. Especially not to myself. 

So, what’s my point?

My point is that I deserve better. 

And while I still sometimes cry over my ex and what might have been, if I keep reminding myself how he treated me last summer, I can keep reminding myself that he became an asshole. 

I deserve someone who’ll hold my hand through life. Through the challenges. Through the work stuff, the family stuff, the friend stuff, the difficult stuff. Through the happy times. Through the fun. Through the sadness. And through silly, sentimental movies on rainy bank holiday Mondays.