FRIDAY · THE TINY ADVENTURE
When was the last time you went to the movies by yourself?
Not with your partner or the kids. Not as part of a group outing where someone else picked the film and you said sure, that sounds fine.
Alone. On a Saturday afternoon, maybe, slipping into a matinee like it was a small secret.
You used to do this, or something like it. You used to go places alone without it feeling like a statement.
There is something about a dark theater that offers the most luxurious kind of privacy. No one can reach you, and for two hours, no one even knows exactly where you are.
Your phone is off. Not silenced, not flipped face-down where you can still feel it pulling at you.
Off.
For two hours you do not belong to anyone. You are just a woman watching a story unfold, and the only opinion that matters about whether it was good is yours.
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Here is what I have noticed. Women will eat lunch alone, shop alone, sit in a waiting room alone without a second thought, but the movies alone still feels like a line.
It feels conspicuous somehow. Like someone will notice the empty seat beside you and form a conclusion.
No one will. And even if they did, there is nothing to explain.
You wanted to see a film. You went.
This weekend, look up what is playing near you. Not what someone else would enjoy, not what got the best reviews, but the one that made something in you lean forward when you first saw the trailer.
Buy one ticket. Sit wherever you want.
And when the lights go down, notice how it feels to disappear into something you chose. Not the way you usually disappear, into someone else's need, but the good way.
THIS WEEKEND
Look up showtimes at the nearest theater for Saturday or Sunday afternoon. Pick the film that catches your eye, not the one you would have to convince someone else to sit through.
Buy one ticket. Get the popcorn if you want the popcorn.
Sit in the dark and let someone else tell you a story for a while.
And tell me what you went to see. Hit reply. I read them.
THE QUESTION TO SIT WITH
What would I choose to see if no one else's taste mattered at all?
THE BREADCRUMB
Monday, just a quiet hand on your shoulder. Nothing to do. Nothing to try.
See you tomorrow.
If someone came to mind while you were reading this, send her these letters. The Permission Slips are yours when she stays.
