Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Next Time, I'll Put a Ring on It

Not too long ago, I went to a movie by myself. I’ve wanted to do it for a while, but for some reason, attending a movie seemed less like an independent thing to do and more like a loser thing to do. I mean, I see those middle-aged men who are sitting alone with their jumbo popcorn and drink in the theater. (And why are there never women sitting alone?) Plus, I live in an area that is highly populated with college kids, some of which I still know. College kids who are usually around my age and go to movies with not one or two friends, but a whole group. Do you understand the social risk that is associated with going to the movie theater alone?

But after not finding anyone nerdy/stupid enough to pay to see the worst movie ever made, I decided that it was my chance to embrace my lonerism and venture into a world that few people dare to go.

The theater was rather full, so I chose a seat in the back row, on the end. There was a guy, who was easily in his 30s, sitting a seat away, also alone. (I later found out that he had chosen not to sit with the people he came with.) I didn’t pursue a conversation with him when he tried to start one because I just wanted to watch the movie and be otherwise invisible.

Somehow, between the beginning of the movie and its end, that seat between us disappeared (no, he wasn't hitting on me; we got an extra person in the row). And then I inadvertently told him that I was married.

I admit that I have always fantasized about faking being engaged/married in order to avoid any unwanted advances—which would be just about any advances—but those fantasies usually involved a fake ring and walking around BYU campus.

However, at the end of the movie, he turned to me as I was packing up and tried to make small talk.

Guy: Hi, I’m Brandon.* What’s your name?

Me: Hi, I’m Mary.  *standing to leave*

Guy: Are you Mary?

Me: Yes. (Wait, didn't I just say that?)

Guy: Oh, that’s really nice.

At least that’s what I thought he asked. But as I walked away, it dawned on me. He wasn’t confirming my name. He was confirming my relationship status.

He was confirming it in the boldest, most direct way possible: “Are you married?”

Sorry, man, I’m really not married. But I’m also really not interested. I’m sorry I lied to you.

However, I think it’s hilarious that I did.

*This is definitely not his real name. I forget his name. I forgot it two seconds after he told me. That’s how uninterested I was.


Andrea said...

This is me, really wishing you said your name was "Yvonne" and he would have asked for your number. Repeatedly.

M.E. said...

Ahahaha! I totally forgot that! It was probably because I wasn't owning the regalness of an updo. Yeah, if I had my hair in a ponytail, he most definitely would have been more persistent.