Movie theatre seating has gotten better over the years -- nice padding, arena seating -- all that. But recently I saw a flick at one that had gone over the comfort edge… It was too comfortable for me to be comfortable.

When I bought my ticket via a fanciful device in the theatre lobby called a “computer,” I had to pick out my specific seat by touching one on a monitor dwelling graphical seating chart. Each seat contained therein featured a letter and number tag. Immediately, I was surprised by how few seat graphics there were for this particular film showing. And it was odd that several of the seats had pink hearts on them.

I walked in and was ushed by a young, eager usher to my chosen sitting area, entering what looked like a futuristic living room. There weren’t any of the usual movie theatre seating trappings. This place was filled with a twenty-piece matching set of leather sofas, love seats, and chairs.

The usher double-checked my ticket, E4, and took me to the back row. There was a college age looking guy sitting on the left side of a love seat. She told him he was in my spot and that he should move over to E5. Just scooch over. I told her it was okay. I could sit on the right side of the love seat next to the guy I don’t know instead of the left side. No problem. This E5 versus E4 controversy actually made the sitting next to a stranger-dude in a love seat situation more awkward for me, as if I’d been all, “Why is that guy in MY seat?! He needs to scooch over! SCOOCH HIM OVER, USHER GIRL!!! SCOOOOOOOOOOOOOCH!!!!”

Love seat. Horrible name. Horrible seat, especially when you’re me going to a movie alone and having to share one with a male stranger. I mean, if I sat down next to a fetching young lady who didn’t have a problem with my BMI designated obesity, heavy breathing, and violent popcorn devouring, well, that’d be a potential love connection that I’d find interesting. Quite interesting. Alas, no. I was seated next to a baseball cap wearing UCLA dude who was “technically” in my seat.

The awkwardness of sitting next to a strange guy on a love seat to watch a movie was driven home by the nice “romantic” couple in front of us… and beside us… on both sides.

I didn’t like the feeling of this seating arrangement as a solo moviegoer. It felt as if, somehow, the theatre itself had decided that me and this guy I didn’t know and would never talk to had to be friends of some sort, at least for the duration of the picture show. It seemed neither right nor fair nor awesome.

Another problem with this cushy, shared furniture seating set up was that it made some people feel more at home. So, of course, there was a wacky older lady, also alone, who felt like we were all family, or at least close roomies, and decided to loudly make bubble bursting chit chat with those around her…

Nudging a neighbor: “I wish all theaters were like this! But they need more seats! … To make money! Ha ha!”

Caressing the couch arm: “I’m surprised they don’t charge more! This is nice! I’d like this in my house! Ha ha!”

As the usher was showing people to their seats: “Ha! Ha! No one knows where to sit! Hahahahahaha!” (How is that funny enough to warrant knee slapping laughter?)

“What movie is this?” asked a new filmgoer as he wandered in with his lady friend.

Loud lady not hearing/listening properly but responding anyway: “D1! I had to ask, too! What seat are ya’?”

“No, what movie? Is this Name of a Movie That is not the Movie Showing in this Theatre?”

“Nope,” answered the loud lady, and, as they leave, she turned to the couple in the couch beside her: “I heard that was a good one, too, though! Ha! Ha!”

Take away her oddly off-puttingly loud friendliness, and she’s me… as a woman… in twenty years or so.

Also due to the smaller size of the theatre, all of our human sounds were louder. The chewing, in this case mostly of popcorn, always bothersome to me, became this amplified noise invading my ears and haunting me like a disgusting auditory ghost.

Talk, talk. Laugh, laugh. Chew, chew.

My love seat partner adjusted himself and crossed his legs toward me in a strange bit of body language as he cleared his throat violently. I ate my popcorn loudly, joining in the chorus. Then, the movie started… awkwardly.