Week 4: Pan's Labyrinth

Sometimes when Grant makes me watch golf or baseball on TV, I'll catch myself actually enjoying it. But then to keep my cover I have to act like I'm miserable so I just roll my eyes and sigh loudly and act like picking lint off the throw pillow is much more interesting than whatever is on TV.

That's exactly what Grant does to me whenever I make him watch a foreign movie with subtitles. Double that when it's a fantasy to boot, like Pan's Labyrinth. For the record, I thought this was a great movie and I thoroughly enjoyed the dual storyline of Ofelia’s real and fantasized worlds.

However, Pan’s Labyrinth caused a serious rift to settle in on the sofa between us. I don't know why, but when I rent a movie, I feel compelled to make sure the people watching it with me like it too. I take it as a personal slight if they don't enjoy it, even if it’s not a great movie. It makes my self-esteem vanish and I feel like the only girl at the dance without a date.

So, to overcompensate, I laugh extra-loud at things that are only moderately funny. I squeeze out real tears at scenes briefly sentimental. I say things like, “Wow, did you see the size of that rose bush in the last scene? Grant? Isn’t that interesting? Have you ever seen such a thing? Man, those blooms had to be six inches. Six inches!”

I knew I was in trouble only moments into Pan’s Labyrinth. Grant left the room after five minutes and spent another ten minutes deciding between a beer or a glass of wine in the kitchen. Next came the yawning. And then he ACTUALLY PICKED UP A BOOK. This is something he never does, so I knew I was doomed.

He settled in on the couch with his book and was asleep within minutes. So I did what I always do when Grant falls asleep during a movie. I find some small object in the room to put up his nose. It can be a paper clip, a leaf pulled off a houseplant or an old potato chip found deep in the couch cushions. Anything will do. The point is to scare him from going back to sleep so I don’t feel all alone.

“Goddamnit, Holly,” he muttered, batting away the nail file I was inching toward his nostril.

“Don’t you like the movie?” I asked sweetly. He rolled his eyes at me and started picking lint off the throw pillow, acting like it was much more interesting than what was on TV.