‘Eureka, I’m not alone!’

The woman I’ve been sharing my life with for the past two years has gone to Japan for a month-long sojourn. That left me—who has been, of late, accustomed to a coupled and domesticated life—alone for the first time in a long while.

I guess I’ll never be truly alone, as I have our pet dog and cat to accompany me in our apartment. Daisy and Gatsby make me less sad about my aloneness, but they can’t totally free me from the melancholy of being far away from my partner—my lover. Yet, a part of me was also excited, thrilled for all the alone time that I’ll have.

So one Sunday morning, while I was sitting at my desk, I decided that today was a perfect day to go to the movies. I didn’t have any title in mind and didn’t even know what was showing. But I realized I just wanted to sit in the cinema and watch a film.

Of course, I could’ve easily streamed a movie and watched it in the comfort of our home. But that would’ve been different, like how writing in a Google doc is different from writing in a notebook with a fountain pen. Having stared at my computer’s screen for the past week, I needed a break.

I went to the mall and headed straight to the cinema. The choices were a horror film, a rom-com (the corny kind, unfortunately), something about a K-pop group, and one with Brad Pitt in it. If I was with my partner, we would’ve considered the horror movie. But as I was on my own, the first three movies were all nonstarters. The choice was obvious. I didn’t know what the film was about and who was its director, but I loved most Brad Pitt movies I’ve seen. And so I watched “Babylon.”

I grabbed some popcorn and milk tea and went inside 30 minutes earlier than show time. All seats were empty when I entered, and I sat in my reserved one in the middle. Eventually, a couple sat behind me, but that was it. It was as if Lady Luck had decided to wink at me that day and make up for a string of setbacks I’ve been having recently—here’s the best viewing experience possible, and here’s a random, life-changing movie.

Because “Babylon,” it turned out, was my kind of film. It was a period piece set in the ‘20s, following the rise and fall of various individuals during Hollywood’s transition from silent films to talkies. It featured jazz music, senseless bravado, sensual chaos. And there was Brad Pitt and his monologues. My favorite was that one where he was discussing the potential of film to touch the human soul and save the alienated man. In the end, he shouted “Eureka, I’m not alone!” (before drunkenly falling from his mansion’s roof to a swimming pool).

The film took me places. In its over three hours, I was amused, excited, heartbroken, pensive, but, ultimately, happy. I was surprised that such a film was screened here; “Babylon” was self-indulgent and excessive. Well, business considerations aside, I would just like to think that Lady Luck really pulled some strings for me that day.

Yet I found it impossible to fully enjoy the film despite its brilliant cinematography and acting. Because the whole time I was watching, I was also thinking that this would’ve been perfect to watch with my partner. She would’ve cherished the singing and dancing, she would’ve cried because of the artistic pursuit of the characters. She (an artist and a cinephile) would’ve appreciated the aesthetic merits of the film more profoundly than I ever would’ve.

I love being alone. But when something really funny comes up and I have no one to share a laugh with and to whisper a dirty joke to, that’s when I feel the loneliest. I’m no stranger to going to the cinema on my own—before I met my partner, I was doing just that. I did everything on my own. So I was happy that I went to the movies, but a part of me was also dejected.

I went outside, sat on a bench in an outside park. Still with “Babylon” on my mind, I messaged my partner. I told her about the movie and how magical it would’ve been if she was here. We exchanged texts, talked about practical matters. I had so much I wanted to say, but the message would’ve been lost if conveyed through a digital medium. I remained sitting and looked absently around—a café, kids playing near a fountain, a full moon.

I rode the taxi home, but at the last moment asked the driver to take me to a Japanese restaurant near our place. I ordered ramen, a salad, and a bottle of beer. I realized anything can happen in life, but in the end, I’ll have myself. Thinking of the distance between me and my partner, I sipped my beer and sighed. I, then, tried my best to enjoy eating alone.

*The title comes from the aforementioned film “Babylon.”

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Mark Flores, 28, is a freelance digital marketing professional. He lives in Angeles City, Pampanga.