Coitus interruptus

“It’s a not a smart watch, it’s a nice watch, just like me” I go. Somehow they admire my watch, and I can go blabber. We sit on the bench, they go in, I am left waiting. And I wait and I wait and I wait. Why on earth would you leave me waiting? Didn’t you know the movie is starting inside? “But you looked so nice out there waiting for me the other night, all those boys looking at you” I can almost hear you. Well, I do have too much patience, but that does not mean I don’t hate waiting.

When the waiting is done, you’re all sweaty, we are inside, and the movie is five minutes running. I see a pattern, but I will tell you all about that as soon as I am done being sour. There is no need to spoil the rest of the movie. I survive every time.

As we sit in the no air conditioning dark, the movie breaks and they cannot fix it. That is what I call coitus interruptus. BUT MOM, I wanted to see that movie! I wanted to know how it ends! Will I ever now? Probably not. Not in this country.

Luster, about a boy with blue hair.

Later, I question myself on the need to know how the author wanted to end his piece. Why do we need to be absolutely sure? Why are we so bothered, or rather annoyed when we are obstructed in getting to the bottom of what we wanted? Wouldn’t an imagination exercise serve us better? Maybe I will get to see the movie on video, sometimes. Who knows.