I don’t like going to the movies anymore
When I first made it a habit, it was love
Where else could a group of fourteen fourteen-year-olds walk to on Friday nights to escape the cold of a new winter?
The new Harold & Kumar movie was perfect
Perfectly dumb enough to keep such immature teens entertained
Perfectly empty, to keep us from bothering others as we stopped paying attention to the movie and started paying attention to new faces
Breaking Dawn: Part 1 made my heart race faster than ever before
My heart pumped as you worked up the courage to put your arm around me
I thought it would jump out of my chest when I turned away from you, too nervous to kiss you
Happy Feet 2 was a cute sequel
It was a great second film in a long list of movies we’d share together
It marked the beginning of stolen kisses and shared soda straws
The Lorax was exhilarating
I’ll never forget how hard I struggled to keep my hands off you in a theatre of children
I’ll never forget when I failed to do so, starting a streak of no self-control, of losing myself in desire for you
The Woman in Black terrified me to no end
Nothing scared me more than our friends fighting in the dark beside us
Nothing had ever made me jump more than the realization that that might be us someday
The Hobbit was the beginning of a dark and dangerous journey
Suddenly my contentment meant less than your pleasure
Suddenly you only enjoyed the movies when I was kneeling in front of you, not sitting by your side
Les Miserables, Sweeney Todd, Spirited Away were my favorites to watch at home
And you joined me and enjoyed some
But mostly enjoyed the way I let you take me on the floor of my room while I wished that both you and the movie could finish
The Hangover 3 was a nice story of friends
Friends, we needed to bring with us, to keep the conversation going
Friends… that’s what we were becoming
The other day, I saw the final Night at the Museum movie and I cried
I cried and told my dad it was because it was the last movie for Robin Williams
But I cried because your ear wasn’t there for me to whisper into
I cried because your arm wasn’t wrapped around me
I cried because your hand wasn’t in my popcorn bucket
I cried because we lost that desire, that need, for each other
I cried because we had turned out just like our friends
I cried because what we had turned from love to lust
I cried because even my favorite movies will forever be tainted with your memory
I cried because, now, I can’t even call you a friend
I f***ing hate the movies