I love going to movies by myself. I love stretching my legs and rudely propping them up on the seatback next to me (only if no one’s in it, I’m not that rude!), and I love treating myself to popcorn and a Coke, and I love laughing obnoxiously or inconspicuously wiping away a tear with no one else around but moi.
I’ve been dying to see “American Reunion” since I saw the first preview at the end of 2011. Alas, the only friend I have who wanted to see it, too, lives on the other side of the country. So today, after work, I took myself on a date.
I made a pit stop at Michael’s for some jewelry supplies of the boring-but-necessary variety (two sizes of jump rings, clasps, yawn), and then at Barnes and Noble for a very adorable gift from my mom (more on that later). Dined at Chipotle while I read my new book, and then I trotted myself over to the movie theater for one ticket to a movie in possibly my favorite movie series ever.
I got there a little early — I might have sat alone in the theater for 25 minutes before it started. So I read some more of my book, getting more and more giddy, thinking I might be the. Only. Person. in the entire theater.
But then … two men walk in. (But they sat like three rows behind me, said hello, commented on the lack of seating, and proceeded to be the quietest movie companions ever. I loved them so.) So I wasn’t the only person in there, but I was close.
And yes, “American Reunion” was the worst of the four major “American Pie” movies. And yes, I still loved it. That crew of guys, to me, is high school. They were class of ’99, I was class of ’01. Their fashions, their music, their experiences were mine. (Well, I mean, if I wasn’t the nerd editor of the high school newspaper, in all the AP and honors classes I could take. So I guess their experiences weren’t quite mine. Blarg, you know what I mean.)
And it must be noted: Eugene Levy? He’d play my father in my father’s life story. The resemblance is eerie.
Any who. Going to moves alone: Awesome. Do it.