It won't happen again, I swear. I've come a long way in my life, much too far to let what happened last night to ever transpire again.
I will not allow it. I will put forth all the necessary steps so last night's travesty does not take place.
Simply put: Next time, I'll read reviews of the movie before I go and see the movie.
Read and then see. Read. And then. See.
There is no excuse. Laziness, perhaps, but that's not an excuse, it's a mindset, and one in which I usually succeed in pulling myself away from.
But not last night. No, not when it mattered most, when I went on a date.
I brought a date to a movie that neither one of us knew a damn thing about. Recipe for failure? Since when did a little adventure ever hurt anyone?
Since last night. I answer the questions around here.
I went with the movie. Saw it in the paper, knew the actor, liked the time slot, boom, got the tickets. The time slot had a lot to do with it, actually, probably the most. I don't want the awkward slot so that you have to goto dinner at 4 in the afternoon. I also don't wanna show up for dinner at 10 at night. So, that slot really has a lot of power.
And this movie, it had a great slot. 8:30. Perfect slot.
I picked her up at 7:15, got to dinner round 7:30. Everything was as planned. Brilliantly choreographed. Flawlessly executed.
And then the dismount.
Flubbed it. Flubbed the dismount on the dumb idiot movie genius over here just 'went with.'
It's alright, we ended up making fun of it the whole time anyway and brought us together a little perhaps.
We then quickly grew apart again as soon as I forgot where the eff I parked the car. Never, and I repeat, NEVER be in such a hurry that you don't remember where you parked.
Life Lesson, people. Always remember where you parked.