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About (overre)acting and pressing pause

After a decade without a tv, money for the cinema, a laptop or a pc, I finally found a date with everything I needed. I told her how much I used to enjoy watching movies and proposed we’d do a marathon for our fifth date. I let her choose three movies and a theme. The only rule was that they’d average an IMDB-scored of at least 7.3 and that she’d let me stay over to ‘sleep’.

Last Friday, around five, it was time and I was unpleasantly surprised. The theme she’d come up with was sexiness and all films featured George Clooney. So I said, ‘that guy isn’t hot. You were fooled by the fact that he played next to Quentin Tarantino once.‘ I was referring to From Dusk till Dawn, probably the last movie I’d seen before moving out of my parents’ house. Luckily I said all this with my eyes and managed to keep my mouth quiet. I wasn’t going to let my temper ruin this evening. I hadn’t brought a backpack full of fresh clothes for nothing, you know.

We started watching and first up was The Descendants. In this flick George plays a not so fit looking father who hardly moves a muscle after hearing someone had frequently fucked his wife. It was basically a pretentious romcom. In the second film, Syriana, George played a not too fit looking secret agent who hardly moves a muscle while someone pulls his nails out. This one also hinted heavily towards pretentious, but it had just enough killing to keep me interested.

Her last choice was Ocean’s Eleven, which I loved, because it rocked and made George look seriously average next to Brad Pitt and Julia Roberts. When I mentioned that last part my date countered immediately with:

“That was one of his lesser roles. He received an Oscar nomination for the other two.”

I countered as well with ‘are you seriously this simple?’ which I said with my eyes. All she saw was a Brad Pitt-like smile. As she tried to remember why she dated me, I googled her favourite actor. I wanted to undermine his talents with facts and/or gossip and discovered that George was a notorious dater.

“Why do you think George is always single?”

I asked my date, followed by:

“Do you honestly believe he has to work hard to look slightly overweight and boring?”

I showed her one of his commercials Google suggested and asked her:

“Do you really believe this is how he normally walks around?”

She pressed the spacebar and asked if I maybe wanted a coffee. I pressed my eyebrows against each other, because it was way too late for that and we were in the middle of an argument.

“I’m sure his dates couldn’t wait to take him home…”

I said as she wandered off into her kitchen.

“…I’m also pretty sure they had fun that first night. But when they woke up the following weeks and reality set in, when their dried out vagina finally begged them to break up, they knew…”

“They knew what?”

My date asked as she handed me the coffee I hadn’t asked for.

“They knew that your precious played himself in Syriana and The Descendants, that he acted his heart out in Ocean’s Eleven and that he should get a goddamn Oscar for every fucking coffee commercial!”

“Thank you for explaining that to me.”

Her lips replied while her eyes sighed ‘too bad you have to bike all the way home with that in your backpack.’

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