There’s no denying it: Jan and I are movie buffs. We watch every new movie that comes to our local cineplex, and if there are no new movies, we buy DVDs. In the 2o months we’ve been a couple, I estimate we’ve seen at least 400 movies together.
Lately, I’ve noticed her focusing almost exclusively on romantic comedies. This seemed rather odd, since you’d think she’d be getting her fill of romantic comedy watching me try to navigate my way around this relationship.
Then I noticed that, at the conclusion of each movie, she’d segue into a relationship talk, and I began to smell a rat. Actually, the rat trampled my face before I smelled it, but that’s beside the point.
“Oh, that so romantic,” she said, after we’d just watched Love Actually, in which Colin Firth proposed to his love interest in broken Portuguese in front of all her friends and family. “You propose to me in Thai one day?”
“Sure,” I replied. “That might take a while, however. I’ve been here two years and can’t even count to five.”
“Oh, you right,” she said. “Maybe you better do in English. Then you not have to wait at all.”
I coughed. “It’s not quite that simple, dear. You still have to learn the proper response in English.”
“It only one word. I learn already.”
“No, no, no. The traditional response when I propose is ‘Let me think about it’, or ‘I’ll get back to you sometime’, or ‘don’t call me – I’ll call you’”.
“But I decide already.”
“Now, now. What did old Treebeard say in Lord of the Rings? ‘Let’s not be hasty.’”
“I don’t think two year is hasty. I not want be stuck in The Never Ending Story.”
“Oh, nobody said anything about a never-ending story. I was thinking more along the lines of Journey To the Far Side of the Sun.”
She glared at me. “Maybe you need start thinking about Trouble In Paradise.”
“Oh, come on, dear. Don’t be like that. Marriage is a scary subject for me. My last one was like Nightmare on Elm Street. The one before that like Friday the 13th. And the girl before that, she was short like you, so she was more like Bride of Chucky.”
“You compare me to horror character?”
“No, of course not. Just my wives in general.”
“You Jackass, you know that? You want horror movie? How does Bangkok Chainsaw Massacre sound?”
“Kind of far-fetched, actually. You don’t even own a chainsaw.”
“I own electric knife. It take longer, but the way you talking, I not mind.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t get angry. Let me make it up to you. How about we sneak off to the bedroom for an action-packed 88 Minutes?”
“Because I know you. More like Gone In Sixty Seconds.”
“That’s not very nice. Why are you being like this?”
“Because you never want to talk about future. You like The Man To Nowhere.”
“Actually, that’s The Man From Nowhere.”
“Now you Man on a Ledge. Keep it up, you’ll be The Running Man.”
“Okay, look, I don’t want to fight. What is it you want from me?”
“I want you make decision. Either choose Love, Wedding, Marriage, or Live Free, Die Hard.”
I fell silent. I didn’t know what to say. I felt like a man between A Rock and A Hard Place.
My silence was not well-received. She got up and headed for the bedroom.
“Hey,” I said, “what about dinner? I’m starving.”
She slammed the door behind her, locking it.
Damn, I thought. Let The Hunger Games begin!