since grown into this large, chunky man and can easily be mistakenfor a football linebacker but I don’t think he’s ever seen a scary movieafter that, even if it were a Disney flick for as long as it has scary characters, like that fat Octopus (Ursula in
The Little Mermaid
.) Butshhh! Don’t tell.In high school, my girl friends and I watched
on VHSat a friend’s house. Her brother walked into the room at the scariestpoint of the movie and my friend, who was infamous in school forbeing a prankster, sidled up to the light switch by the far wall whileeveryone else was glued to the TV. She switched it off and screamed,“REDRUM!” Her brother, the only boy in that room, let out an unmanly yelp and bolted, leaving one slipper in haste and running smack intothe huge, decorative urn at the top of the stairs. It was a mighty crash—something he’s had to live with for much of his life. I knew then thatI never wanted to be associated with a man who couldn’t withstandspooky stuff. No ninnies for me, thank you very much.I have inadvertently risked life and limb, by forgetting about menand horror movies simply don’t mix. In college, I was able to bully this towering, Caucasian varsity basketball player, who was makingnice with me, into seeing
. He wanted a date so he got hisdate—to a horror movie. He was gallant enough to sit through it tothe very end although he did take around eight long bathroom breaks,four popcorn runs, and three soda refill runs, or maybe I should say,walks, in triple slow motion.On the walk back to his car, I made the grave mistake of rushingahead and ducking behind one of the other cars in the parking lot andpopping up for a big shout out of “BOO!” It happened much too fast.I know he sort of tackled me to the ground but the details of the eventremain blurry. I only remember going home with a sore bum thatstayed sore for several days. I chose not to see him again. “But why?”a classmate asked. “He could score us free tickets to every Broncogame. You do realize this, don’t you?
”“Yes,” I said, “but who wants to date a ninny?”“He’s not a ninny!” she said, shouting this time. “Because he didn’trun the other way when you spooked him; he charged you. There’s adifference, hello?”“Whatever, still a ninny,” I insisted under my breath and kissedthe season tickets goodbye.