Not very long ago I was a big horror movie fan. Weekends were spent at momma's house watching whatever one of us found in the deepest darkest pits of the video rental joint. I'm not sure when it happened or why but all of a sudden my nerves just couldn't handle it anymore. There are still a few things I can watch but my tolerance is limited. I'm talking to you Human Centipede.
I specifically rememember a weekend that Morgan and I were supposed to go see a movie. I will break it down for you based on my stages of seeing a scary movie.
Denial: "Morgan. I'm not going to see that movie." (driving to theatre) "I don't want to see that one, let's see something else."
Anger (with some denial mixed in): "I'm NOT seeing this Morgan! It's going to be TOO SCARY!" (this is standing in line and purchasing tickets to scary movie that I am vocally refusing to see)
Depression (plus denial): "I don't wanna...hmph." (pouting, standing in line for nachos and hot dogs)
Bargaining (no longer in denial): "Morgan, please, let's leave now. I'll buy you something! Anything...if it costs less than $5. Do you want to go for ice cream?" "PLEASE!" (in theater, in the middle of the movie that I haven't seen more than 3 minutes of because my head is behind my coat, people are throwing things at me)
And that's about it. Apparently ice cream isn't good enough for him even though at one point I wasn't the only one behind my coat...so, I win. Kind of.
This isn't me, you know, because you can see her face. I'll be the one hiding behind a jacket or someones head.