The Cinema

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Not being able to concentrate for longer than an episode of Eastenders means that the cinema is most certainly not my first choice of date location. But it isn’t solely down to my short attention span that I opt for sushi over screenplay. The cinema is a scary place. A place of awkward shuffles and popcorn crunching. A realm of uncertainty and self-doubt. And sometimes I think it’s best to go it alone.

Take my first ever date for example. It was indeed, a trip to the cinema. I was thirteen; ridiculously self-conscious and for some reason finding it appropriate to rock denim on denim (including a fetching cap which read “babe” in pink). It was a time when I thought the film wasn’t the main attraction and the cinema was a magical place. Instead, this disastrous “double date” showed me just how bad it could be. My best friend and her boyfriend snogged the whole way through, whilst me and some boy sat on either side, unsure of where to look. This is not how I thought cinema dates were supposed to go. I thought I was supposed to sit next to my date? Maybe even hold hands? Instead, I actually watched the film.

Over the next few years came a flurry of lateness, munching, lost tickets, mice ridden theatres, popcorn throwing, bust ups and tears so I took a little sabbatical from movie dates until I left school and a guy insisted on taking me back to that dark place. He bought Nachos and he eats like a rhino. Enough said.

I thought my movie days were over until I went on a sort of date with a sort of friend who perched his hand comfortably on my knee. This all felt pretty ideal until I realised my leg was basically numb from sitting in the same position for about forty-five minutes. I remained in this position until I thought I would never walk again and then made an excuse about getting some water. As I stood up, I realized that in actual fact, I couldn’t walk. So with every step I took, I stumbled. The whole way down the stairs.  And to make matters worse, we haven’t mentioned it since. Until now, obviously.

So although it’s taken me around ten years, what I’ve realised, much like sitting on the loo, is that the cinema seat is made for one person, popcorn is the poorest choice of silent snack and lateness is a buzz killer to those who enjoy watching the trailers. But a picture perfect date is boring and sometimes it’s worth taking that risk.

Anything can happen in those 90 minutes, and most of the action happens in your seat, so hold on tight and enjoy the ride.

Seatbelt anyone?

The Fart

large (2)It takes a lot to embarrass me but I’m cringing as I write this.

It might be immature, but I can’t even bring myself to say the word ‘fart’ out loud I hate it so much. I shoot daggers at anyone who does it near me and I hand even the most beautiful of babies back when they do it by accident. But I’ve learnt the hard way that many people don’t mind it. Take for instance my first boyfriend. He would (as most guys refer to it), ‘let rip’ all the time. He would even sometimes point his peach in my direction and chuckle to himself after shooting one in my direction- romance at its finest. In contrast, my last boyfriend didn’t even utter the word or make a joke about parping, let alone do it in front of me. And we went out for almost three years; the poor bloke.

But why do most men think its okay? Because it’s acceptable for guys of course. And for once in my life, I’m happy that there’s an inequality between the sexes. I don’t want to do it in front of my boyfriend. Or anyone else for that matter. In fact, I’d rather be caught with my knickers around my ankles by my boss than let someone hear me parp. Even when married I don’t think I’ll partake in anal acoustics. But is this too idealistic? Is there always a time where the feminine facade gives way to reality?

Take Carrie Bradshaw for example; so elegant and tasteful. I would love to say that I resemble her because I have fantastic hair and an epic wardrobe full of designer clobber. But no, I simply share in her most embarrassing moment. It was back in series one where she and the beautiful Mr Big are getting comfortable with each other and a bottom blast takes her by surprise when they’re in bed together. This happened to me back in 2005 and I still haven’t forgiven myself. In fact, I can’t believe I’m actually admitting to it. My ex and I were messing around and he made me laugh (so technically it was his fault) and along with a hearty chuckle came a little noise. I hoped he didn’t hear until he said ‘Liv… did you just…?’ I almost died. In fact, I think a little part of me did die that day. And I’ve chose never to look back- until now.

I guess now that I’ve actually admitted to being capable of doing it, I should apologise for blowing the cover of those girls who, like me, wish to pretend to boys that we just cannot fart.

However, keep at it ladies, you’ll be surprised at how many guys believe it- or want to at the very least.