Over the weekend I met my friend Susan and her daughter for an afternoon of girl adventures. We made plans to see a movie and maybe do some shopping afterward. Frankly, I didn't care what the plans were --anything to get me out of my stifling hot apartment. The thought of spending two hours in an air-conditioned movie theater was complete bliss.

Since "Bruno" wasn't a suitable choice for a 10-year-old, we chose "My Sister's Keeper." At the beginning of the movie, Susan pulled a package of tissues out of her purse. I knew I was in trouble from the get-go. During a particularly emotional scene, I felt my chair shake. I looked over to see my friend and her daughter sobbing so hard the seats were moving. I couldn't help but wonder if maybe "Bruno" would have been the smarter choice after all. I doubt there would have been any crying in that movie.

The movie continued, as did the sadness, with no tears on my part. I didn't think anything of it until the movie ended and the daughter told my friend that I hadn't cried at all. Susan looks at me surprised and said, "What's wrong with you; are you dead inside?"

So what, maybe I am. Perhaps my emotions are broken, and it's not like there's a Band-Aid for that.

I'm the asshole who didn't cry in a movie about a dead kid. (For the movie purists out there, I didn't ruin the movie for you; get over it. The girl has cancer, it's not like you really expected her to live.)

I know I'm capable of tears. I had a near meltdown earlier that day while I was at the gym. I was exhausted and frustrated that I couldn't imitate a move the way a trainer showed me. I didn't actually cry, but I was so close that I was strategically planning my excuse for the tears. It was best I didn't cry since the only reasons for tears I could come up with were allergies and sweaty eyeballs.

So maybe my broken emotions are limited to movies. This isn't the first time I've wondered as such. A few years ago I watched "Passion of the Christ" with completely dry eyes. No one in my group could say the same. I did, however, cry during the Adam Sandler movie "Click," which could be attributed to the fact I saw the movie at Brewvies with a cold beer (or three) in hand. Draw your own conclusions here people. I needn't do all the work around here.

On the way to the car Susan mentioned how emotionally exhausted she was. Code for: "There will be no shopping. I just watched a kid die so now is not the time to help you find the perfect pair of gold sandals for your upcoming trip to Chicago." For me not having the perfect shoe IS a reason for tears, but instead of crying I took the hint and drove the sobbing duo home. I'm hoping they found my dry eyes just as endearing as I found their tears. Endearing is so much better than dead inside.

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