9:00 p.m.
White Shoes – check.
White Shirt – check.
Light colored pants – check.
Popular men’s cologne – spritzed.
I walk out of my basement level condo. Step up four stairs, open a door, and I’m outside.
Twenty-one and a quarter steps and I’m in my garage. Three more steps and I’m in my car. Five-minute process max, depending on if the garage door is closed, meaning I need to put the code in.
Little things can add up.
9:15
A twelve-minute drive and I’m right on time. I like catching the previews. After the ticket booth, snack line and waiting on popcorn, two drinks, and a pack of Twizzlers, I’m in a good seat. Seven minutes max.
9:30
The previews go and she always shows up right after. She finds me and sits down, reaching straight for the package of Twizzlers. She is aware that I am watching her sensually eat the red vine of odd compounded non-toxic chemicals and sugars. She ever so softly coughs as an excuse to lean over and expose her cleavage as she takes a drink of her diet soda with no ice.
The movie begins after the cinema’s short bit on the rudeness that comes with using your cell phone during a motion picture.
10:15
Half an hour is the time a movie plays before a clerk comes in with his orange-coned flashlight. He or she walks up and down the aisles and then over to the exit for who knows what reason.
I’m convinced it’s to look for contraband. Contraband being food from outside the cinema’s dark carpet covered walls. Where Twizzlers are two dollars instead of eight.
We always see the movie that’s been out the longest, the one that is most likely to be empty.
10:17
The clerk walks out.
She. The one sitting next to me un-buttons her sweater, carefully slipping it off and placing it onto the back of her chair. The popcorn is then removed from my lap. The fly on my pants is un-zipped. Her mouth, loosened up from the Twizzler, breathes air into the open fly of my lightest of light brown corduroy pants. Light brown because the white creamy stains don’t sit as noticeably on them. Dark brown pants are the difference between going unnoticed or getting dirty looks while walking out.
10:47
Only take a half hour maximum.
Someone could come back in. A lot of times clerks check theatres every half hour.
So, if you’re on a date in some girly romance movie, pay attention to how many times the clerk checks the theatre to find out how long you’ve been suffering in there. Then you won’t have to look rude checking your watch or phone in-between every scene.
For a situation like mine, remember a half hour or you could get caught. An establishment like this doesn’t take too lightly to public displays of affection. And this goes way beyond tonsil hockey. This is flesh-smacking flesh. This is holding our hands over each other’s mouths so the moans aren’t audible.
11:58
We say nothing. She puts her hand in mine and lifts it to her face. She pulls out my middle finger. Deep throats it and releases it with a suctioned pop. She places her jacket back over her torso and walks out right before the credits roll.
I’ve been told, “You should do that at a porn theatre.”
I always reply, “Porn theatres always have people in there late,” I laugh and add, “and the movie we choose to see is always terrible anyways, so we aren’t missing anything.”
They say something along the lines of, “I just don’t get it. I could never do it in public, that’s nerve wrecking and kind of freaky.”
Once again, I always reply, “That’s exactly it.”
