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A Saturday Night, Out
I used to need courage to go to a movie alone on a weekend. If there was a film I wanted to see and friends weren’t available, I refused to succumb to the shame of sitting alone when everyone else was paired off. I made myself go. But it wasn’t easy. Each time, I had to psych myself up.
The challenge wasn’t just emotional, but a matter of logistics. I did the math one night, while standing in line envying couples. A group of three was ideal: one to wait for the tickets, another to park the car, a third to get the seats. Alone, I couldn’t divide the tasks, like if I wanted to get popcorn, who would protect my spot? I’d have to ask the person sitting next to me, which made me feel more needy than I wanted to be. Or I could just save the seat myself, if I had a jacket to peel off, and was willing to risk that it would be there when I got back.
You can see why I wanted support. But if you break problems down, you can usually solve them. So I came up with a plan. Number one: get to the movies early (and make sure you bring an extra layer).
During my intrepid Saturday nights at the movies, the theaters were bigger than they are today. I would sit there, all alone, in the middle of the giant orchestra section, smack in the middle of the row, a prime seat, because, according to plan, I got there early. Sometimes I brought a magazine to read, so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact. Couples would start filing in, and I was surrounded by people in love. Maybe they were fighting, maybe they weren’t even couples, but that’s how it felt to me: everyone happily dating, or married, and, then there was me.
One night it occurred to me that if I put something on the seat next to me, people would think I was with someone. Since I’m perky and not bad looking, I realized people would assume that I had a date or a relationship or even a husband. It would look to the rest of the crowd like I fit in.
The third part of the strategy was especially ingenious. I would look at my watch to check the time, then turn around and glance towards the door. In other words, “Where is Mark, it’s taking him forever to park the car?” The charade was complete. Until the lights went down, jacket on “his” chair, I passed as just another couple on a Saturday night.
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I love this strategy and this piece! The “checking the watch”/”I’m waiting for someone” thing always works – for sneaking into restaurant bathrooms, too, on the streets of NYC where nary a store owner is pleased to let a non-customer use the facilities!
[…] to the movies alone, especially on a weekend, is an acquired skill, which took me years to develop. Now, it’s my favorite way to go. I love being able to choose the film, the theater, the […]