Wouldn’t it be great to know how long your spouse would let you die in a public bathroom before they called someone to go looking for you? Well I found that out today.
My husband recently found a group on MeetUp.com called The Sci-Fi Enthusiasts. My husband is a zombie loving, alien adoring, vampire lusting kind of guy; so of course he signed us up and of course without consulting me first. Mostly what this group does is meet at movie theaters sitting together near the front with blankets, tubs of buttery artery clogging popcorn and gallons of diabetic inducing soda to watch new release sci-fi movies. Then off to coffee shops for hot foamy sugary drinks and pastries loaded with crèmes and icings. I understand why they must advertise on Meetup.com as I’m sure they are dropping like flies due to the quality of their caloric intake.
I’m a bit socially awkward. I’m 50% professionally diagnosed with Aspergers. I couldn’t afford the other appointments. As my grandmother would say; I’m unique, but some may call it rude and/or OCDish, but I prefer unique. I think I might name my next cat unique because it sounds cool. In social situations I don’t know what to say to new people sometimes and if I say something, it may make things more awkward. Have you ever asked a non-pregnant woman when she was due? Well I have. And they don’t like that. So rules out in public; keep quiet and keep my distance. My husband knows these rules well because he mostly made them up for me.
Upon pulling into the theater parking lot nearly an hour early because I will not enter a movie once it has started, I tell my husband my plan (because I have to have a plan, always, to avoid awkwardness) where I want to sit and that I do not want to sit with The Sci-Fi Enthusiast because I like to sit far away from the screen, I don’t know them and face it, some sci-fi people are just weird and I am not in a good emotional state to deal with that today because along with my 50% diagnosed Aspergers I also have PMS.
We buy our tickets and my husband sees someone he knows and I tell him I’m going to the ladies room. I take my time putting up my hair into a long ponytail in front of the mirror then shaking it out again to put it up in a bun, giving him plenty of time to end his conversation so I don’t have to engage. I’m feeling exceptional anti-social today and did I mention or you may have already forgotten, I have PMS? So I’m a little bitchy. It’s okay, I can say this about myself, but you cannot because I might stab you in the eye with my high heel. Next week I can assure you, I will feel horrible about stabbing someone in the eye who called me “a little bitchy”, but today….not so much.
I come out of the ladies room and my husband is nowhere to be seen. That’s okay; he must be in the theater already. I walk into the theater. He isn’t there. I take a seat anyway. It’s now 45 minutes until show time. I get a great seat up high in the stadium seating. I see The Sci-Fi Enthusiasts about 10 rows below me and I’m glad I’m sitting alone. I close my eyes for a moment and wait for my husband. Hmmmmm? Where is he? I look in my purse for my phone, this takes about 5 minutes because it is more like a small suitcase with everything I might need if I find myself buried in a cave in need of a French manicure and a blowout. I discover I have left my phone at home along with my emergency earplugs. I don’t want to move from my cushy seat because now people are starting to roll in; taking up other great seats I could have chosen. I know mine will go quickly if I leave. So I think, of course he will look for me in the theater…right?
The previews begin. I’ve been sitting here for 25 minutes. I begin to think he must have planned this. He has left me here at the theater on purpose and is cleaning out our bank account this very moment to move to Belize and live in a tree house. AND THAT WAS MY IDEA, not even his. Although he likes tree houses, I suggested Belize because we could have breakfast with monkeys. I began to freak out and get angry about the thought of my husband having Trader Joe’s cinnamon crumpets with monkeys because he is allergic to gluten and everybody knows monkeys are bad influences and don’t care if anyone is allergic to gluten. Then I took a Xanax and I was better.
I heard the leader of The Sci-Fi Enthusiast tell the others; “Sterling (because that is what he wants me to call him in my stories) and his wife are here, but they won’t be sitting with us. They like to sit further away from the screen.” And the whole group said, “Awwwwww” in disappointment, so I was kind of sad and then I felt like sitting up here was a good decision because they don’t even know me, I could be socially awkward and tell them they all look pregnant by accident. Oh, my god, I’m stressed out! Where is my husband?!
The lights begin to fade. Oh, shit! This is seriously less funny than 5 minutes ago. The same movie was playing 30 minutes later in another theater in the Cineplex and I wondered if he had gone in the wrong theater and was waiting for me there. And then I thought maybe I have been in here so long watching people that I have completely forgotten what my husband looks like! Then I took another Xanax and I was okay. All this time, my freak out mode must have been on full blast, because I had 3 seats to either side of me completely empty in a nearly full theater. And I really don’t think I smelled bad. I mean I know that my natural deodorant needs to be reapplied often, but I wasn’t even that sweaty considering that my husband had either left me to live with monkeys in Belize or I no longer had the ability to recognize him.
Three girls sat next to me because there was no place else to sit. They approached me quietly like I might bite and I only growled a little, but I don’t think they heard it. I asked them to please save my seat so that I could search for my lost husband. I quickly walked out of the right theater and into the lobby checking for the wrong theater showing the same movie. I passed the refreshment counter and saw my husband get up from a bench and approach a female theater employee. I saw him motion to the ladies room and heard the words “check on my wife”. I tapped him on the shoulder and said,
“I’ve been waiting for you in the theater!”
“What? I’ve been waiting for YOU to come out of the bathroom? I was just asking a lady to go check on you. I was so worried!”
“You waited 45 minutes to send someone in to check on me!? I could have been dead by then!”
I took his hand and led him quickly to the theater just as the movie was beginning. Thank goodness the girls saved my seat. One said,
“Oh you found him!” with a smile.
“Yes.” I said. “The ladies room” and rolled my eyes and they all scootched a little further from us.
So now I know, 45 minutes, that is how long my husband would wait while I was dying in a public toilet to get help. And I sort of got a little upset about that. It was a quiet car ride home while I questioned if he had really hoped I had died so he didn’t have to share his popcorn. When we got home I saw my phone with 2 missed calls and 2 text messages from my husband all in that 45 minute time frame of me possibly dying in the ladies room. The first message said, “I’m worried about you. Are you okay?” The second message said, “Do you need me to go get you tampons?”
You really can’t stay angry at a man who would drop everything, leave a sci-fi movie he had been waiting to see for months to go get me tampons.