Last summer, my husband and I decided to go to a movie. I scanned the movie listing on my iPhone. “The Hurt Locker has gotten really good reviews,” I said. I really wanted to see it.
“What’s it about?”
I read him the description and he declared he didn’t want to see that movie. So, instead, we saw some forgettable movie. Seriously, I can’t remember what we saw instead.
And then, before I could see it, “The Hurt Locker” disappeared from theaters. I hate it when that happens.
In recent months, “The Hurt Locker” garnered various nominations and my regret over not seeing it escalated. I strive to watch all the movies nominated for Academy Awards . . . and so, after “The Hurt Locker” was nominated, I rented the movie on DVD and watched it at home even though I hate watching movies at home on DVD. I get interrupted too much.
Every time we’d hear something about “The Hurt Locker”, I’d tease my husband. He ought to trust my judgment about movies. After all, he is the man who dragged me to “Welcome to Mooseport” one year. I have never taken him to a dud of a movie (to my best recollection).
So today, we went to the local independent theater where “The Hurt Locker” is showing again. Watching it the second time around was even better than the first. My husband loved the movie.
And when it won “Best Picture” and “Best Director” (among other awards tonight), I rejoiced . . . and not just because this gives me ammunition for years and years of teasing. But mostly because it gives me ammunition for years and years of teasing.
Husband = Zero.
Wife = All the rest of the points.