I'd rather be nostalgic about the 80s than my Ex

When we got back from travelling, the Ex and I got a year's membership to London's Prince Charles Cinema.

Having finally found a boy and a cinema which shared my love of independent and classic films, it ended up being our go-to place for a date the whole time we were together.

Even on that January night when something wasn't right, it was where we went to try and fix what was going wrong. I'd tried throughout the film to loop an arm through his, or rest my head on his shoulder, feeling a pang in my chest each time it wasn't reciprocated.

That was the last time we - and by proxy, I - went to the cinema. My membership ran out some months after the relationship ended, and because in my head it was "our place", I didn't go back.

Then a few weeks ago I saw they were screening one of my favourite ever childhood films, Labyrinth. Thinking that it was high time I reclaimed one of my favourite hobbies again for myself, I grabbed two tickets and enlisted my friend PIB for a night of masquerade masks and Bowie-esque shenanigans.

And so on Saturday night, with masks and glasses of Bowie Punch in hand, me and my friend walked into a room full of dressed up 80s Labyrinth enthusiasts, all blowing bubbles, batting balloons (and, err, fake babies) into the air while singing along to the Bowie soundtrack.

In short, I have never ever had so much fun watching a film. I laughed through the entire thing, reciting the words along with the packed audience, singing, cheering each character and generally mouthing off in a way I've never seen fit to do in a cinema. And all the while, the chest-infected PIB had a little nap-nap under the cover of her mask, before waking up and tipping beer into her Prada bag. A successful night all round.

Later, we walked out with our masks still pulled over our faces, and tottered up Long Acre. Still chatting about the film (or, in PIB's case, the last 15 minutes), we found ourselves being yelled at by a group of boys in command of a microphone and loudspeaker.

After ignoring their amplified advances, eventually one of the lads caught up with us. We estimated his age at about fourteen years old, what with the braces and onset of acne, but he seemed harmless enough.

"Awright ladies! Sorry, I saw you up the road and had to come and say hi."
"Hi." we replied, stopping as he blocked our way.
"Where've ya been? What's with the masks?"
"Labyrinth" we said in unison. "We've been to see Labyrinth"

The boy looked impressed. Shocked even. How cool were we?

And then, he uttered four words which would make any nostalgic 80's child tut, roll their eyes, and generally feel rather old:

"Wow, cool! The rapper?"

Having answered with every ounce of disdain we could muster "Err, NO, the FILM", we left him looking rather confused, and no doubt searching IMDB for this mysterious new film about rappers wearing masks.

A text from PIB the next day summarised perfectly:

i think we've now established the deciding factor for what constitutes as "too young" in a potential beau... Bowie. *sigh*

*****

Spurred on by the evening's success, with a Sunday to kill and a spring in my step, yesterday I took myself back down the Northern Line to Leicester Square and did something I've been wanting to do for a long time.

After renewing my cinema membership for another year, I bought a ticket for one, found a seat in the dark, and watched a film surrounded by strangers. And like most things where the idea is more terrifying than reality, it was the best Sunday afternoon I've had in a long time.

Not only can I go back to the cinema again; a place championed by couples and once upon a time, "us", but I can do it on my own.

The final words of this post are best left to the same bloke who ended my last, then no more De Botton quotes, I swear.

I had to revisit almost every physical location, rewrite over every topic of conversation, replay every song and every activity that she and I had shared in order to reconquer them for the present, in order to diffuse their associations.

But gradually, I forgot.