Why Going To The Movies Is The Worst First Date Ever

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Finally. After meeting at the bar and drunkenly making out; after all of the “I’m clever and sexy but totally don’t need a man because I’m a strong, independent woman” text messages; after the perfectly lit, cleavage baring, “I’m having fun and this snap could be for everyone, even though I perfected this for an hour to look abnormally hot and I only sent to you” Snapchat, he asked you out.

You accepted.

All is right in the world, and you almost have the color scheme for your wedding planned out (ivory, lilac, and gray) when he tells you that he planned an awesome date–and who doesn’t dig a man with a plan? Then he says it: you two love birds are going to the movies.

The movies?

You try to remain calm and continue adding smiley faces to your texts, but those emoticons are now dirty, cheap lies. You know the truth. Going to the movies is the absolute worst first date. Ever.

Picking the Movie:
First of all, what movie could two literal strangers see together that would not be sufficiently awkward? Once you get past the never ending cycle of the “What do you wanna see?” “I don’t know. What do you wanna see?” bullshit, the choice will either be:

1. A “ ‘Fast and the Furious 27’ Drug Deal Island With Hot, Exotic, Large-Breasted Woman” dick flick
2. A scary, “hopefully she’ll cling to me and I’ll get to do a subtle tit graze while she ignores the fact that I’m more terrified than she is” slasher film

This is where guys get confused. They think we actually want to see rom coms with them. The reality of the situation is that we are faced with 2.5 hours of pretending we’ve never even heard of the leading man, let alone have shirtless pics of him under a waterfall saved as our desktop (cough, Ryan Gosling). We then have to deal with the inner turmoil of him knowing this is exactly what our dream guy is like, whereas our date has yet to open the door or cook calorie-free, gluten-free, carb-free, yet orgasmically delicious enchiladas. Red flag if the most romantic thing he says is, “Your rack looks hot in that jacket thing.” Uh…

Arriving At The Theater
When you are about to purchase tickets from the 15-year-old who needs Proactive, a wave of panic washes over you. Is he paying? Do you have to pay? You don’t want the pimply girl at the register to think you would go out with an asshole who won’t pay. You get out your wallet anyway. Be cool, be cool. Shit, there’s my emergency condom. Wait…did he just pay for everything? After recovering from your internal panic attack, he asks you if you want a snack.

What a question. Yes. Obviously. You haven’t eaten solids in three days because you wanted to look hot in your way too tight skinny jeans. If you weren’t on a date, you would have Taco Bell and candy filled to the brim of your bag. But, because he doesn’t yet know that you have the feeding capacity of a pregnant hippo, you say no while hoping the loud orchestra of gurgling from your stomach doesn’t give you away.

Movie Time
As you walk into the theater for your cinematic torture, nostalgia washes over you. You recall all of those high school dates when your then boyfriend would try to convince you that no one was looking, as you shared an armrest with an elderly woman oozing with judgment.

Once you finally make it to your seat, you are faced with the “armrest down or armrest up” situation. If you leave it down, there will be no physical contact and you’re basically seeing a movie with a chaperone. If you put it up, you’ll spend the whole movie counting how many awkward and uncomfortable ways he can have his arm around your shoulders before giving up and holding your hand. Both of your bodies seem to decide this is the perfect time to test out the ol’ sweat glands, and now your hands are ejecting mass amounts of dampness. This must either be ignored or, horror of horrors, wiped off.

After about half a second of sitting on those devil chairs, you realize how uncomfortable your legs are in this position. How does leg placement seem so weird? Putting your feet up on a first date? LOL, no. So instead of actually relaxing, you have to deal with your legs taking turns falling asleep and counting down the minutes until you can take your pants off and drink a bottle of wine to forget this evening.

The Sex Scene
Then, just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, it happens. You should have expected it. You should have known. Someone, ANYONE, should have warned you.

The sex scene.

There is nothing more uncomfortable on a first date than watching people hook up, then, even worse, FALL IN LOVE on a giant screen while you’re sitting next to a guy who can’t remember your last name.

After the Movie
There is no “after the movie.” After the movie, you wish the movie didn’t happen and you pray there is no second date, because you don’t want to know what a “first date at the movies kind of guy” could plan for a second date. Spoiler alert: it tends to be mini golf. Delete his number now.

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Rachel Varina

(yeahokaywhat) Aspiring to be the next Tina Fey, Rachel spends her free time doing nothing to reach that goal. While judging people based on how they use "they're" vs. "there" on social media, she likes eating buffalo chicken dip, watching other people's Netflix, and wearing sweatpants way more than is socially acceptable.

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