I guess it all began on our first date.
From our initial conversations, I knew that Dave was “a bit of a film buff”. To my great amusement and delight, he was able to quote a solid chunk of dialogue from one of my favourite films, “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels”, accompanied by a great impression of Steve Martin’s reaction to Michael Caine’s whipping of his bare shins.
[yframe url=’http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axAA2egWeaY’]
We’d also discussed our mutual love of Hitchcock films, heatedly debating whether “Marnie” was anywhere near as good a film as “Rear Window”. But it was not until our first date, a trip to see Baz Luhrman’s “Moulin Rouge”, that the level of his interest was made clear.
I’d been on a few dates to the cinema with various guys before, but not quite like this. As we grabbed our sweet popcorn and Diet Coke and then walked, hand-in-hand, to the screen, I prepared myself for a romance-fest. You see, everyone knows that a dark cinema is a perfect setting for some snuggling and, at the very least, a kiss. However, as the trailers began, Dave’s attention was clearly not on any romance of any kind. He looked straight ahead, happy to hold my hand, but completely fixed on the enormous screen in front of him. He did not talk, did not move and most certainly did not kiss me.
Now, let me make myself clear, my husband is a very romantic man. Flowers, love letters, sweet text messages, surprises and special foodie treats regularly make their way to me. Such a loving man is hard to find and I am absolutely sure our three children would agree. He is extremely helpful and loving, connecting with me and our kids as much as he can. However, when it comes to films, he is well and truly wooed.
On the way home from our date that night, Dave recounted his favourite scenes, his favourite lines (word-for-word) and then talked animatedly about Baz Luhrman’s other films, of which I was also a great fan. As he dropped me off that night, I knew I was beginning a rather big adventure with a complete cinephile.
I could get annoyed by it all, I suppose. Collecting DVDs, film postcards, cinema tickets, various books about directors, film movements and SFX. But, I love the fact that my husband has a passion that is not football. I love his face when I present him with surprise tickets to a midnight premiere of a superhero film. I love placing his just-delivered film magazine on our bed, knowing that he’ll come home, rip open the cellophane and get all excited about newly-released photos from the set of a film coming soon. I love the way he drags our kids to the computer to watch a just-released trailer for a film he’s been telling them about for months. I love that our eldest son is obsessed with SFX and can happily watch a film, looking at the artistry with which it has been made, thanks to his dad’s explanation of green screen and CGI. It’s all very cool and very cute.
And it’s not like I didn’t know what he was like. In fact, seven months after our first date we were engaged and during a long journey to a friend’s wedding, we chatted and found ourselves in one of those typical man/woman conversations, where the void between the sexes is clear for all to see…the script went something like this…
Me: I love you, Babe.
Him: I love you too, Honey.
(He smiles and chuckles gently to himself, clearly recalling a happy memory)
(She smiles at him, enjoying, what must be, a romantic thought about their relationship or their future together. Maybe he’s thinking about the children they will have, or their old age, spent blissfully happy together, by the sea.)
Me: What?
Him: Hmm?
Me: You smiled. What are you thinking about?
Him: Oh, nothing.
Me: Oh! Tell me, I want to know what you’re thinking about.
Him: It’s nothing. I’m not thinking about anything.
Me: Well you must be thinking about something, You can’t be thinking about nothing.
(He pauses.)
Him: Well, it’s just…I was just remembering this line from Ace Ventura.
(End of conversation.)
Sally Roper is the happily married cine-widow of Dave Roper.
