J and I are at the theatre watching The Dark Knight. I've been looking forward to this: a date, just the two of us on a Friday night, and a whole delicious 90 minutes of Christian Bale. So we're sitting there (no popcorn - maybe that was the problem?), and about a quarter of the way through the show I start thinking... this film is violent. Too violent. Keith Ledger's Joker character is too menacing - with his knife-scarred face and incessant lip-licking. I'm certain the author of Batman didn't intend it to be this sinister. (J assured me afterward that actually it was: the Dark Knight, as the name suggests, has a dark side and happy endings and cupcakes are not part of the plot here apparently)
I start to get fidgety. The baby is kicking me like a tiny footballer because of all the coca cola I've consumed; The person behind me keeps rocking my chair with his foot; The film is too loud; They should not have replaced Katie Holmes with Maggie Gyllenhaal - she's just not right, too drippy or something. I spend the next hour and a half thinking about ways to sneak out the theatre. There's fizzy pop drinks and chocolate out there. Much more appealing.
Before the credits are even up I turn to J and exclaim "thank GOD that is over" slightly too loudly. He peers at me suspiciously, like I've just slammed the Star Wars trilogies. "Really? I thought it was great."
I get the feeling from the excited comments leaving the theatre that everyone else liked it too.