sensing my desperate need of some quality alone time, tony offered to take ella for the day and let me sleep in and do whatever i wanted to do for the day. ahhh. sweet, sweet freedom.

it began at 8 when i got to sleep in while everyone else went for a walk. i slept until 10:30. mmmmm. delicious.

then it was off for some quality me time. i decided to go to a movie.

by myself.

all alone.

it’s the first time i’ve ever been to the movies alone. it was a little weird, but i got over it very quickly. you don’t have to worry about hogging the arm rest or share your snacks or go see something you really don’t want to see. so of course i went to see a chick flick: the devil wears prada. i had to crawl over two old people to get to my seat, but luckily they didn’t seem to mind. later i found out why.

the movie was funny and i was glad i went. when the credits starting rolling, the old lady at the end of my row left and the old man that was with her stood up and just blocked my exit. then he started talking to me. i was trapped. he had issue with one of the characters who slept with two men during the course of the movie.

where was the world heading? the country was going down the drain because of this type of promiscuous sexual display in movies.

well, he had a point. the second guy she slept with really wasn’t all that cute and she could have done without that whole ‘i got caught up in paris under a street lamp with a semi-attractive blonde man’ situation, i agreed with him as i tried to get him to give me back my personal space.

a little luck! he slowly scootches out of the way but continues our discussion of morality with a comment on homosexuals trying to get the right to marriage. what are they thinking?

we’re at a movie theater in the neighborhood beacon of gayness, for crying out loud, so i just offer a blithe, ‘uh-huh. that seems to be a popular idea.’

thankfully, almost everyone was gone out of the theater at this point, so no one can hear him begin his brilliant new thread, virginity and the american girl. where are all the virgins? he asks.

he’s eighty. why does he care where the virgins are? he’s been on the other side of virginity for so long, what good do they do him?

at this point, he puts his arm AROUND my waist and we’re walking down the aisle. for an little old man, he sure had quite the grip. i’m suddenly beginning to sense a turn in the direction of our conversation of the ills of society.

and he’s sure a young lady like myself is still a virgin, right?

umm, i think my husband really wouldn’t be happy about that, ha, ha (why are you touching me? do i know you? weren’t we just talking about virgin chasteness?).

well isn’t your husband a lucky man because you are a very beautiful woman.

ha, ha, thank you (for unhanding me, creepy mc handsy) and i’ll be sure to tell my husband you said that. oh look, there’s your wife of fifty years (poor thing). i think it’s time for your meds. bye! have a nice day, dirty old man.

how can anything in my day possibly top that? it didn’t. i even went shoe shopping, to no avail. i could still feel his steely paw on my hip.

and so now, (can you blame me?) i have yet another reason to avoid old people.