After a man sued his date for texting through a favorite movie of his, we’re claiming that it should be a law we all abide by. Having someone ignore something you treasure is a crime most foul indeed.
Here’s an unpopular opinion: I agree with the man who sued his date for texting during their movie.
Now, I’m vaguely sure that this makes me a pig or some sort of swine or indeed it might represent that the laid-back me is finally dead, replaced by a mass of unreasonable Woody Allen-esque idiosyncrasies, but fudge it, I agree.
The plaintiff in this case (shout outs to Judge Judy for teaching me which one is which #UnemploymentLyfe), Brandon Vezmar, 37, stated that “this is like one of my biggest pet peeves” before having their second date organized by the Texas court system. Romantic.
There are three independent points of contention here, outside the primary one which is why sue for?
- What kind of 37-year-old man goes to see, nay, takes a date to see Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2?
- This is probably why you’re single.
- According to the The New York Post who broke the story (and the fall of the Soviet Union, which it certainly isn’t), Mr. Vezmar also hit up his date’s sister for the money back.
The court case is seeking damages of 23 of your Earth dollars, but seemingly the principle is priceless. And ye, we have a sentence that echoes throughout human history and enables horrible, horrible things.
It makes no sense to pursue it, but I believe I’m right, so fuck it.
[Insert horrible loss of life here.]
However, we do share pet peeves, Mr. Vezmar and I. Not in the pointless proliferation of lawsuits or badgering my failed dates for reparations … although … no. Anyway, the less-than-utter-attention spent on something you treasure enough to show someone you love, or hope to love, is a crime within itself and one that should indeed be punished to the full extent of the law. Something that we’re all subject to and something that demands official legislation to govern it.
Example: I love my partner, very much, which also means she annoys the absolute tripe out of me, very much. One of her quirks is her notoriously short attention span, whereas I waffle on far too long and lose sight of the point. Whatta couple. Anyway, one of my favorite all-time movies, and particularly in the romantic realm, is Lost in Translation, a nuanced jaunt through the imperfect nature of perfect love. Life gets in the way, everyone loses, but they’ll forever live on in the neon streets of Tokyo. Naw. I tried to share this with old mate and her analysis, after a mere 20 minutes, was: a) are they going to shack up? and b) this is boring. Suffice to say that I horribly lacerated the bottom of my feet walking across the broken jagged remains of my own heart en route to turn the television off.
Since then, I’ve been reticent to share my favorites, not because she wouldn’t enjoy them, she might, but because I couldn’t risk the pain of having someone so dear to me pan something so dear to me again. Which is a real shame. Because I was hoping to show her Amour, which I believe is the ultimate couple movie.
I’d recommend it for date night. But only on the assumption that phones would remain off and this evening’s scheduled film will be honored in a suitable fashion, otherwise … I’ll see you in court.
To keep it fair, I’m more than happy to implement a three-strike rule. You can either 1) answer your texts or 2) ask the exhibitor of the movie what’s happening re: the plot or 3) pause said film three times … but upon the fourth, one must quickly iron the court apparel, because it’s time for the lawyers, yeah?