I hereby decree that I am a pansy. A sissy little school-girl trapped in this 24-year old body of a Greek god. I used to think I was tough-- a real hard-nosed, thick-skinned, bunofastich. Emotions would roll off me like water off a duck's back. Not anymore.
Somewhere along the line I went soft (except for the deific Grecian physique, of course). A few weeks ago I admitted to liking chick flicks. Well, tonight I upped the ante: I cried watching a movie.
Don't get me wrong-- this wasn't the "uncontrollable-like-I-just-lost-my-dog-convulsion-sobbing" or anything; but more like the "shade-my-eyes-with-my-elbow-so-my-brother-and-sister-in-law-can't-see-me-blink-back-tears" variety. So that's not so bad, right? Right? C'mon guys...
Who am I kidding?! I am ashamed. No matter that the movie was only the best western ever created. I don't know if I can look y'all in the eye after tonight.
Lonesome Dove cost me my dignity, or what little I had left by that point in the evening (I walked in on a couple's dinner party which included an ex-girl-friend and her soon-to-be-fiancee. Shortly thereafter, the conversation turned to my floundering love life. Ouch.)
So the next time you're wondering if your wallet can hack the eight bucks for a new release, remember that the price of admission for watching a movie at home can be a whole lot more.