Converting A Reluctant Theatre-Going Boyfriend

My sweet man has enthusiastically listened to me every time I’ve returned home from the theatre and asked all the right questions about the set, the sound, the cast, in a way that was convincing enough for me to believe that he would want to come with me one day. However, every time I proposed the idea, I was met with a deflated, almost apologetic reply along the lines of “I just won’t enjoy it”.

Now, for the lovers of the stage among us, it’s obvious that he may just not have seen the right thing, or not have had the right English or drama teacher at school, or simply not been exposed to it enough. So hope was not lost, but I knew that if I were to shoot my shot at trying to change his mind, I would have to do so perfectly. Therein began a lengthy plan of how to carefully curate the perfect visit to the theatre. I chastised myself for not having met this man in 2023, when Dear England (the play about England football manager Gareth Southgate) was first performed at the National Theatre, as my trawling through reviews, websites and columns was proving fruitless. Where were the plays directly linked to his interests or hobbies, namely cooking, football or birdwatching? Perhaps this would have been too on the nose anyway, I reassured myself, redirecting my approach to thinking about an area of town that would be easy for us to get to after work and then to travel home from, and that would also be near enough to a restaurant that he would enjoy eating at.

The answer to these demands always brings me to The Cut, as The Anchor & Hope (the sister pub of other wonderful places such as The Canton Arms and the Clarence Tavern) has a seasonal menu, brilliant wine list, and is within walking distance of both the Young and Old Vics, meaning you can have a proper sit-down meal rather than rushing through a set menu or eating an overpriced taco in a food hall.

The Old Vic was off the cards, as they were currently running One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, which we had seen together in the cinema, and only one of us had stayed awake throughout. The Young Vic was debuting Alexander Zeldin’s play Care. I was familiar with Zeldin following rave reviews of his previous productions, but I was nervous about the debut status (what if, despite all best attempts, it just fell flat?), and also that it was two hours long (short enough) but without an interval (might need a wee halfway through?). However, it boasted being humanistic and free of melodrama, which I knew the prince would prefer.

I chose to roll the dice, booking Saturday 30th May so that we could get there in the late afternoon and have a little mooch before dinner, rather than rushing from work. What I had failed to consider (and I don’t think I was the only one) was the possibility that Arsenal would make the Championship League final. Watching a play about loneliness and the end of life in a care home after seeing your team beaten 4-3 on penalties would not help my cause, and we were forced to reschedule.

Lo and behold, the day finally arrived and the odds were all in my favour. The heat wave had broken, and delicious beetroot and terrine were consumed streetside at The Anchor & Hope. We made our way into the theatre, bumping into a friend on arrival, who texted us once he was seated in the circle that Benedict Cumberbatch was sat in the stalls. This obviously gave the play a level of status that I couldn’t have vouched for, and I settled in smugly.

Every now and again I would subtly peep over at my date to see if he was still awake, or see if I could read signs of enjoyment on his face. About two-thirds of the way through, I made to whisper something to him, only to find that he had tears streaming down his cheeks. The sniffles of our fellow aisle-mates were impossible to ignore. The play had got him, and it had got us all! Mr Cumberbatch was in bits.

As the cast came on to their standing ovation, I felt an unwavering sense of success: it had moved him, he had connected with it, and he had believed in it. Wasn’t that what it was all about? I was certain he would be begging to come to every play I saw moving forward. So when I asked if he had enjoyed his trip to the theatre, I was certain I knew exactly what he would say. How wrong I was! “The play was brilliant, but I can’t say I liked it. I don’t understand why anyone would put themselves through that on a Monday night.”

This account leaves us on quite the cliff-hanger, and I myself felt that way, unsure of what the future held for our status as a theatre-going couple. You’ll be very pleased to hear that we were invited on a double date to the theatre next week (ok, adult) and he said, “Yeah sure. Sounds fun…”