Ella Beesley ‘27

While my friends were enjoying a hot summer day, I decided to adventure to Best Video in Hamden, Connecticut, one of the country's few remaining home video stores attached to a cafe. Whenever you go to a video store, favorites and possibly a few obscure gems are already out for you, making it hard to pick a new movie.

I walked through the aisles, got myself a coffee, and decided which movie to watch for the night. I had this odd feeling of longing, remembering the first time I saw some of my favorites, Lady Bird, at my friend's birthday party or Napolean Dynomite, on vacation with my family in Texas. Wishing I could watch them again for the first time.

I began to wonder if this home video store was the same as rewinding the love of ex-partners. The feeling one gets includes comfortable aisles and familiar tropes. There are some movies you do not care how often you see; they still bring you joy. One can easily remember an ex and have fresh feelings invade one's mind. Take what was familiar and fondly shared among friends, the reassurances of ordinary lives, and common jokes and feelings. You know the good times and the bad times, and all the other in-between aspects that made up the relationship.

The comparisons did not stop there. The descriptions of the movies behind the DVDs provided everything: a moment of action, a glimpse of hope, and a hint of romance. After giving the film a chance, you are bombarded with twists you never saw coming, convincing you never to take that risk again. Relationships follow the same rule: those first dates are glittered with hope and opportunity, giving you optimism. However, after going full in and becoming official, there are unexpected moments of tension or a surprising ending. That afternoon, I left the store with a copy of Tangled (a classic), scared to try anything new.

Later that day, I hung out with my friends. We found ourselves surrounded by fluorescent lights, mildewed carpets, and chipped wallpaper. You guessed it: a Chuck E. Cheese—the place with a million opportunities to have fun. As we played the games, trying not to trip over running kids and hearing tickets coming out of games, the smell of cardboard pizza encircled us. We received a few stares from the adults, but it did not stop us from acting like whoever we wanted to be for the day: a basketball player, a dancer, or a motorcycle rider.

I couldn’t help but compare it to the world of modern dating. You act like a different person for a night, and each app is a distinct arcade game. Tinder is the claw machine of dating apps, where it is almost impossible to get a prized connection. Once you finally do, you realize it was barely worth all the time and energy in the first place. After playing Tetris, my least favorite arcade game, I scored the worst score possible. I saw the similarities between Bumble. Not only was it my least favorite app, but its about trying to blend decision-making and satisfaction in forming fitting connections. Hinge is the skee ball of apps because it is classy, and the possibility of scoring a few matches (or ‘points’) is high.

Later that week, my friends motivated me to get out of the routine of yearning for the past, watching the same movies repeatedly, and play “skee ball.” Just like aiming for that high-scoring center in skee ball, dates can feel like a series of questions where you’re trying to hit that sweet spot of compatibility. This time, rather than scoring only a few points and going to the next game, it was different; we hit the jackpot every time. The conversation flowed, and time drifted away; rather than missing the classic movies I had been drawn to, I was invested in this. It was my high score with Mr. Yale.

However, just like in arcade games, it could only last briefly.

We realized we could never cross paths after two dates because college was about to start. However, even though the game was over, I could collect my tickets and get a prize of hoping for the future despite never seeing him again. While this was not the ending, I was expecting to this thriller. Watching the same movies repeatedly and yearning about the past can stop the process of having fun or something to look forward to.