Film Noir

I marvel at the couples I see at the movies, all apparently delighted with their mutual movie choice and munching from a single bag of popcorn. My husband has not trusted in my movie suggestions since sometime during the early 80's. He lost confidence in my movie-picking ability when I insisted that we see together a wonderful film called, My Dinner With Andre. After the first hour, he turned to look at me with incredulity. He couldn't believe he was going to sit through yet another hour of watching two men eat dinner and talk. I couldn't believe that I was going to have to sit next to a husband in the process of melting down into a petulant toddler. I have strict rules about behavior exhibited by those who attend movies with me: no talking, coordinate breathing to match mine, and no obstreperous eating. These rules are difficult for him. My husband also has no feel for literary or film convention, (he went to a famous technological institute where a course entitled, The Physics of Music, was accepted as a humanities credit) so to him two cigarettes in an ashtray symbolize the peril of second-hand smoke and a train going through a tunnel signifies mass transit. If an actress changes an article of clothing or hairstyle between scenes, he cannot seem to recognize her as the same character, will poke me in the ribs, and whisper loudly, "where'd this one come from?"
I realize some wonderful men sat through Sense and Sensibility with the women in their lives. Some men even watched all six episodes of A&E's Pride and Prejudice. I expect nothing of the sort from my husband because I realized early in my marriage that unless Jane Austen had included some explosions, wet t-shirts, or gruesome battle scenes, Bill would writhe in acute dramatic distress. It is sad to admit this, but I have been the one to compromise. I've even caught myself snickering at Wayne's World and Dumb and Dumber. Even I knew when I was licked and realized some battles are not worth waging!
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