to be known is to be loved
Oh, the delicate intimacy of sharing something that you love with someone you care about.
I know rom coms aren’t your type of movies.
Your Letterbox carries commonly held gravitas: Pulp Fiction, In the Mood for Love, Moonlight. You talk about fight clubs that should not be talked about, promises of Paris amidst black-and-white goodbyes, and Walt Whitman poems in collegiate English classes. You navigate movies with the seriousness you navigate your life. Art is a commentary on reality, and motion pictures give a new meaning to how art can be told.
Yet your eyes flicker with curiosity as I stare at you through the screen, aghast that you haven’t watched 10 Things I Hate About You. I ramble on and on about the golden age of rom coms and how that is long past and how I wish it would come back and–you say, “Okay, why don’t we watch 10 Things I Hate About You this Friday?”
That is how we’re both settled on the couch, lights dimmed and popcorn prepared. The main character, Kat, drives to songs that portray blatant disinterest in reputation management. I’ve always considered it a fantastic character introduction. You know not because you’re told, but you know because you see.
I have every detail of the movie committed to memory–the paintball fight, the grand musical declaration on the bleachers, how someone would not hate another, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all. But that is not the reason why I glance at you every minute or so, gauging your reaction to the movie.
I watch your face in anticipation, concern. I know rom coms aren’t your type of movies. I know logically you wouldn’t enjoy the movies that I nestle in for comfort. I can’t lie, it feels raw for you to see me through the romcoms I watch. What do you see? What do you think?
The movie ends with an electric guitar in the driver’s seat, and I straighten in my own seat on the sofa to look you in the eyes. “So?” Gauging, with a healthy amount of fear. “Thoughts on the movie?”
“Not my usual cup of tea,” you start. My heart drops, the knife turns. I smile a smile that doesn’t want to discuss it any further, but then you continue. “But I like it. I’d watch it again with you. I mean, it is one of your favourite movies, right?”
Such a simple statement, yet it lifts me up more than any rom com ever can.