by Kyle James-Patrick
As I approached the worn counter and asked for two tickets, the
old Korean man, sat on a seat made of non-descript packing boxes, slowly lifted
his head, revealing his weathered face and salted eyes, he stared me up and
down before, in an explosion of gradients, laughed in my face.
"Don't talk to strangers" does not apply in the
virtual world. While approaching someone in a public space to offer
conversation is frowned upon, it is quite acceptable to stalk their digital profiles
and personal information like some kind of cold war commie-hating
Carter-enthusiast; frothing at the mouth trying to find evidence of loose
morals or at least an inclining towards 'rope games'. I was told that this
behaviour is “what everyone does" so I donned my Columbo coat and started
my own personal search for my next ex-girlfriend.
Quickly I found this process of displaying all that you are
interested in and wrapping it in a photo vetoed by your own insecurities to be
completely absurd. Where an honest idea was birthed, it soon grew up to being a
lying little shit who convinced a load of heavy set women to "shoot from
above" to hide the most obvious feature of their physical form; plump is
only beautiful when it isn't a surprise. My tales of internet dating would take
up this entire journal so place trust in me, dear reader, that I have
experienced all the shocks the social network can launch at me.
Now when meeting someone from a digital representation the first
thing you will note is their flaws. This isn't because I am a monger of self
righteousness or a shining example of the what man can be if he tries; trust
me, I am so flawed that it's an illusion of colour
and distracted gags - the 3D magic eye personality that won't stop moving
and allow you to see what's in the picture - it's not a sail boat. Online
everyone has the opportunity to display their plus points, the editorial cuts
out anything that would turn a person off. When you meet the person you will
notice immediate physical attributes like height, teeth, voice tone and
mannerisms like a lack eye contact when speaking, which will feel like meeting
rejected pets at a rescue centre.
After some oddball text messaging with my next venture we
decided to meet on the day of all days for dating. From a brief awkwardness in
the station we moved to a bar that offered a choice of olives and fine ales,
draped in solace and atmosphere. We expanded our internet bios and
drank until we could make fun of ourselves. Due to the nature of the evening,
everywhere that was popular was packed with couples and couple potential, a
giant speed-dating event set over 24 hours where condom machines would rejoice.
Our options were limited so I suggested an art-house theatre in
a notorious part of town. As we approached the area I pointed up to a
triple X sign that was glowing in the rain. She laughed and suggested it would
be funny if we went here instead. I had a bottle of Argentinian Melbec in my
bag and a couple of pure Americana red cups I have become obsessed with. The
venue had a sign outside that proclaimed "4 movies for 1 ticket". We
stepped through the double doors and understood exactly what the man at the
counter was laughing about; two mid twenties kids on a date in a porn theatre
designed by the mind of Hunter S. Thompson.
There were approximately 40 rows of seats, with 12 seats either
side and a large walkway in the middle. There were around a dozen patrons
already in the room, all men, all over 40, and seated at least three rows and
ten clear seats away from each other - now most people complain at how awkward
it is picking a theatre seat when you walk in late, well try it in a porn
theatre. We sniggered as we picked our seats, the alcohol adding to the
self-awareness, the sound system is not quite loud enough to drown out any
comments. When I cracked the wine open the pouring sounded like a pregnant
woman’s water breaking across the grime-ridden floor.
The screen was displaying some kind of early 2000's adult film -
pre gonzo - which translates into porn with dissolve cuts and tracking shots.
The participants in the film were a near jaundice yellow and a flashing message
in the corner indicated the source; "Please Replace Bulb"
rhythmically reminded the audience that a colour was missing from the feature.
Not that it disturbed the narrative.
Enjoying a wine whilst trying not to think about the cleanliness
of your seat as a phallus does what nature intended thirty feet high
in a dark room is an experience I recommend to all wine critics. If
the sound of old men jerking off wasn't enough to disturb your senses, at the
front of the theatre a woman of questionable gender danced awkwardly to the
soundtrack, facing forward trying to catch the eye of the patrons. We soon
realised that this was a prostitute who found a niche market to exploit:
Interactive Adult Entertainment Experience. Shame that she had an appearance
that looked like a failed attempt to clone Mickey Rourke.
As we laughed about the floor show a somewhat younger man had
entered the theatre and had sat down in the row in front of us, a couple of
seats over. This invasion of space was unnerving, especially when I looked
around and noticed that all the men in the theatre had shifted positions and
were sitting in the vicinity of me and my date. There are not many
moments in my life where my mind has asked "are we going to be gang
raped?" and I’ve been to Thailand. We decided that it would be a good idea
to finish the wine and haul ourselves out of the theatre. The film had changed
to something even more 90s as a young Jenna Jameson was polishing a pole that
was never going to sparkle, despite her keenness.
As we stood up the full extent of the scenario was unveiled to
me; we were surrounded by men who were all furiously, unashamedly, masturbating
in the glow of the screen. To make this more of a scar on my conscious, one of
the men noticed my shocked expression and smiled at me, to what aim I don't
know - was he pleased with himself? Did he want me to feel at ease? Was he just
being courteous? I did not stick around to find the results and we burst out of
the back doors, instantly looking at each other with one of the loudest laughs
we could muster. They say people laugh in horror movies because they are
nervous and vulnerable, try being surrounded by the fap sounds of
strangers.
I ended up dating this girl for a few months until she
fantastically broke up with me via facebook because she discovered I still had
my online dating profile and assumed I was cheating on her. I wasn't, I simply
didn't think to delete it. I could have protested it and put the relationship
back together, but that was a warning shot from the battleship of fully mental
female that I could not ignore. What I did learn is that creating a memorable
experience can do a lot more for a relationship than sitting in a bar waiting
for one to ask the other back to their place. When Valentines Day rolls around,
do something different. Go to a porn theatre. Bring wet wipes.
