I Found True Love at the Movie Theater

On a crisp winter morning, I trekked into a small town whose sidewalks were covered in snow and whose streets were jam-packed with out-of-towners all willing to crawl over their own neighbor in hopes of touching fame. Wrapped in their trendiest scarfs, these importants ruined fancy shoes and tarnished expensive pant cuffs as they trudged from event to event. Dinners, wine tastings, and concerts served as a distraction from the fact that it was nearly impossible to participate in the main draw: the films.

Armed with a black windbreaker and butter croissants, I entered the hotel lobby prepared to drink in cinema, take brilliant notes, and write a dazzling review. The lights dimmed, the crowd settled, and the projector flashed. It was then that I met her.

500 Days of Summer

We spent the next two hours laughing, dancing, and getting to know one another. She taught me about The Smiths, I offered her a butter croissant (she passed), and we enjoyed each other's company. At first, my pen jotted things down like, "the counter is great" and "how long until Zooey sings?" but after a few minutes in my pen was no longer needed. This review was going to write itself. Like the review for the Lil Wayne documentary I'd unfortunately been privy to earlier that week.

The way she ignored linear storytelling models
made my heart flutter.

And then, just like that, our time was up. The lights raised, the crowd dispursed, and the projector flickered off. And I was alone. The next six months found me desperately grasping on to anyone who merely mentioned her existence. "Have you seen her? Where did you see her? Do you know where she is now? How's she been?"

Now she's back.

I ran down to the theater. Ticket in hand. Lights low. Crowd larger.

Turns out...she just wanted me for my money.