So I’m told we’re going to fight off the children tomorrow night to see The Hunger Games. Time spent having fun with my lady is always the best part of my week. Good books, and the first movies were well done, so I’m down with it, even looking forward to it.
I just realized, though, how self-absorbed we all are – even the most giving of us. Truth be told, I’ll probably spend a couple of hours tomorrow night crushing on Katniss, despite the fact that there’s no logical reason for it.
My daughter (a smart, beautiful, talented, and compassionate young woman) is older than either the character or the actress. I’ll have the most amazing woman I’ve ever known sitting next to me, grabbing my hand when things get tense on the screen, and I’ll get to go home with her when it’s done.
What I’ll really be crushing on, I think, isn’t that character, or even my idea of that character. I mean, really, this chick could eviscerate me while multitasking and never break a sweat. What I’ll be imagining is the man I would have to be if that crush were somehow realized. That person, I suspect, no matter how fictional, will be my true desire. So y’all look out. For about two hours tomorrow night, I’m going to (in my mind) be a real badass.
ADDENDUM: We went on Saturday afternoon, instead of Friday night, and the audience was mostly a bunch of old farts like us. My wife did, in fact, grab my hand as she squealed and gasped throughout the flick. Turns out, the only thing I was really, really wishing for was seeing my name on a book, and maybe a movie, as big as The Hunger Games.