I went to the cinema today, part of a resolution to go once a week, regardless of whatever's on. I nearly didn't go but willpower prevailed. Well. Maybe a little willpower. I think the excursion was largely fueled by a mix of putting off work and a need to get out of the house.

So I was doing the usual single loser act. Arrived way too early on a Saturday night while normal people were out getting drunk with other normal people. Got a coffee in the foyer and sat reading a Terry Pratchett novel until they were letting us in.

My seat was blissfully solitary in a good spot. At least three empty seats to either side of me. Then the film started and very suddenly couples closed in on me, a move which seemed quite aggressive on the part of some mocking higher power. They were all hand holdy, whispery, snack sharingly repulsive. I would join their ranks in an instant given the chance, but I'd like to think I'd at least spare a thought for the seasoned loner lodged between us and some other equally repellent couple.

I flirted with the idea of farting as quietly, yet offensively as possible as a form of petty rebellion but instead I opted for eating those straight pretzel things in a manner guarenteed to cause distraction. Crunching them loudly just as the guy in 127 Hours breaks his arm is something I now consider to be a social victory.