A friend and I went to see the film "Blue Valentine" because her husband highly recommended the fine acting (i.e. excessively gratuitous sex). I pretty much hated every moment (minus the excessively gratuitous sex). I haven't experienced that kind of torture in a movie theater since "The Passion of the Christ." The feelings of pukeness didn't come so much from the reality TV style re-creation of some of my worse break-ups, but because there wasn't so much as a Alka-Seltzer bubble of romantic chemistry between the two ridiculously hot actors (Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling). Ridiculously Hot isn't a substitute for that mysterious soul connection, but does work fantastically well for watching people get it on.

However, an hour into it, assuming all the sex scenes were over, I made an escape to the bathroom from a particularly unconvincing moment when the two characters are "falling in love." When I came back to my seat my friend leaned over and whispered.

"You missed the best sex scene! They had oral sex and showed everything!"

Failed again by my timing-challenged nature.

When it was finally over, I breathed a sigh of relief and prepared to turn to my friend, roll my eyes, and say something like, "Can you believe she was nominated for an Oscar?."

"Wow, that was really good," said my friend.

"Yeah, it sure was," I answered, because I'm a mega-coward when it comes to disagreeing with people's opinions about arts and entertainment.

Just for today, I can go to the movies.