Thursday, September 15, 2005

We met at the cinema

We met at the cinema. I had seen her there a few times before so I knew we shared the same tast in films. Epic, Eastern dramas full of martial arts and forbidden love affairs, sweeping widescreen scenery and mythical, magical characters.

Once, she sat in my favourite chair. Yes, I have a favourite chair! If I've got nothing better to do I enjoy going to this particular cinema by myself. It's the kind of place where you don't look like a complete loner if you go there by yourself. It shows films that you might want to go and see by yourself. It's also got one section, at the back of the theatre, near the fire exit, where there are two seats in a row rather than four or ten. You can sit there by yourself and pretty much guarantee that nobody will sit next to you. So this is my favourite seat for lone-viewing.

So, there she was, sat in my favourite chair. The cinema was getting busy but I couldn't sit next to her in the row made of two seats. That would have been too much. So I sat in the row in front of her.

And could I concentrate on the film? All the way through I was trying to grow a pair of eyes in the back of my head that could see if she was watching me.

The film, from what I could gather, was a very romantic one where the girl's lover has to die to show his love for her. Everyone came out of the cinema feeling uplifted and wistful. In front of the box office outside, couples kissed dramatically, their hair blowing in front of their eyes. Groups of lads stood around and laughed, pretending it hadn't affected them. But I knew.

The girl walked out and I followed her for a while. She was quite short with short hair. I like girls with short hair. I think it makes them look French. She had a friendly face; petite and simple features. There was just something about her. I went my own way and as I forked off down another street I caught her glance over at me just before the street buildings blocked my view.

It was really windy that night and I felt like I had stepped into the film. Empty tin cans rattled down dark alleys. I put a dramatic, ponderous expression on my face and paused while the camera closed in on my eyes. A long shot followed me over the railway bridge. As I made my way up the street the camera panned along and I disappeared then reappeared, disappeared then reappeared under the harsh city street lights.

The next time I visited the cinema I went into the bar there to get a drink before the film started. She was there standing at the bar! She turned and watched me walk to the bar. She recognised me and smiled.
"Hi," she said. Her cheeks dimpled when she spoke.
"Hi," I answered.
"What are you here to see?" she asked.
"I'm here to see you!" I said. Would she slap me across the face or turn in disgust?
She laughed. Dimples.
"Sorry," I said, "I've seen you here a few times haven't I? What did you think of that last martial arts epic?"
"Ooh, I felt all romantic and windswept after that!" she said.
"Me too!" I laughed.

Me too. These are words that mean so much at the start of a relationship. Me too. Each me too is like a woolen stitch in a big comfy cardigan that's being knitted in time for Winter. It doesn't matter how small the me too is, it still holds the cardigan together.
"I like cornflakes."
"Me too!"
"I prefer radio to television."
"Me too!"
"I sometimes bath instead of shower."
"Me too!"

"Well," she said, "this film looks good."
"Yeah, I've been looking forward to this for a while."

We sat down and talked about film. She was animated when she talked and she bobbed up and down in her seat when she got excited about a film that she remembered. Her dark eyes sparkled in the dim bar light.

A bell rang loudly to tell us the film was about to start.
"Shall we sit together?" she asked as we stood up from the table.
"Yeah, that'd be great"
"There's a couple of seats at the back, near the fire exit, where I always sit," she said. "They're my favourite."
"Me too!" I said.

Me too.

And, for that night at least, the two cinema seats at the back of the theatre, near the fire exit, were both taken.

6 Comments:

Blogger Tori said...

Is that true, or fiction?

10:31 pm  
Blogger Tori said...

And why do you call yourself Lurchyboy?

10:31 pm  
Blogger lurchyboy said...

It's half true up until the point where I actually met her! It's just someone I fantasised about meeting. I kept seeing her around but that's as far as it went. And then I saw her with a bloke one day. Ah well, it just wasn't meant to be!

And I call myself Lurchyboy because someone nick-named me Lurch once. I'm v tall and look like Lurch from The Addams Family (some say). Then someone else heard this and for some reason called me Lurchyboy.

What nicknames have you had? Any?

10:51 am  
Blogger Tori said...

Queenie

11:40 am  
Blogger lurchyboy said...

Why?

11:47 am  
Blogger Tori said...

Cos I'm regal.

No, not really. It was from an Aussie friend cos my full name's Victoria...

2:51 pm  

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