I have always been passionate about movies and sharing my thoughts on them. So, I started a YouTube channel where I review movies for my followers. I went by the username Blackcatloner and I used an animated cat avatar instead of appearing in the flesh. Little did I know, this would become my full-time job and I would gain a huge following.
To be honest, I wasn’t really planning to do YouTube videos but rather be a writer but the lure of reaching a wide audience was so great that I decided to try it. It was rough in the beginning, especially since video cameras cost money, not to mention editing software but in the end, it was all worth it.
One day, I decided to review a really bad movie from the 80’s that had a reputation for being a pretty bad movie that back in its day was ravaged by critics yet it gained a cult following. I decided to watch Love in a Dumpster. I heard from prior online critics how bad it was and the film had no redeemable value at all. So I decided to check it out for myself.
As the credits began to roll, I felt a strange sense of relief wash over me. Despite its abysmal 0 percent Rotten Tomatoes score, I had somehow found solace in the film’s sheer badness. It was as if the director had intentionally crafted a cinematic disaster, and I was grateful for the unintentional comedy it provided. Little did I know that my admiration for this so-called “masterpiece” would lead to an unlikely connection with a fan who would change my life forever.
“Avoid this movie like the plague!,” I shouted as I was recording the review. “THIS MOVIE SUCKS!”
After a few hours of editing and rendering the video, I uploaded to YouTube the next day. And almost immediately, the views started racking up.
My eyes wandered to the comments section, as they often did, searching for someone to share my twisted admiration for the film. And there she was, among the sea of hate-filled rants and sarcastic remarks: a lone comment that seemed to understand the beauty of the film’s failures. Her username was “FilmEnthusiast69,” and her comment read: “I give this film a solid 10/10. It’s so bad, it’s good.”
As I was uploading my latest movie review, I noticed a new comment from a user named FilmEnthusiast69. “Your review of ‘Love in a Dumpster’ had me cracking up! Finally, someone who gets how terrible that movie is!”
I chuckled and replied, “Glad you enjoyed it! That movie was a dumpster fire, no pun intended.”
Before I knew it, FilmEnthusiast69 became a regular commenter on my videos, always adding insightful thoughts and funny remarks. Our banter was filled with shared laughter and sarcastic jabs at the worst movies. It was like having my own personal, witty co-host.
I couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship with her. Despite the anonymity of the internet, I felt a connection to this mysterious individual who had seen the same things in the film that I had. I couldn’t help but wonder what she looked like, what her life was like, and if she would ever respond to my comment, which simply read: “I couldn’t agree more.”
Eventually she started flooding my comments section with more facts about the movie sprinkled with her own comments. I let her comment on it. It was her favorite review. And it was an added bonus to her that I uploaded the Love in a Dumpster review on her birthday.
One evening, a private message popped up on Instagram .”Hey, Blackcatloner, I’ve always appreciated your humor and honesty when it comes to movies. Maybe we can chat more about films sometime? My name is Emily by the way.”
I felt a rush of excitement and replied, “Absolutely! I’d love to talk movies with you.”
I couldn’t believe my luck. I responded immediately, sharing my real name and contact information. In short, I was breaking an unwritten YouTube rule about becoming too involved with a fan. To my surprise, she did the same. In fact, she seemed just as excited as I was to continue our conversation. We talked for hours on the phone, bonding over our shared love of terrible movies and our fascination with the art of creating something so intentionally bad.
Soon, our private chats turned into video calls, and our shared passion for cinema evolved into something more. We both confessed our feelings, and from that moment, we knew we were meant to be more than just online friends.
Months later, we finally met in person at a movie convention. We began meeting up at midnight screenings of movies we knew would be bad, laughing hysterically at the incompetent acting and poorly written dialogue. Eventually, we even started collaborating on film projects of our own. Emily’s passion for filmmaking was infectious, and her unique perspective on storytelling helped me grow as a content creator.
One day, out of the blue, Emily confessed her feelings for me. At first, I was taken aback. I had never considered her in a romantic light before. But as she spoke, I began to understand the depth of her feelings. Despite our initial connection over a bad movie, there was so much more to our relationship than that. We shared a love for the art of filmmaking, a twisted sense of humor, and a desire to create something truly unique and special.
Eventually, I found myself returning her feelings. We began dating, and our creative partnership only intensified. Together, we made films that were truly unlike anything else out there. They weren’t for everyone, but for those who understood our vision, they were nothing short of brilliant. And through it all, Emily remained by my side, supporting me every step of the way.
As I held her hand, I realized that the love we found through our shared interest in terrible films was the best plot twist I could have ever imagined.
Now, years later, we’ve made a name for ourselves in the indie film scene. Our movies are celebrated by a dedicated fanbase who appreciate our unique take on filmmaking. And even though we’ve moved past our shared obsession with bad movies, the connection we formed over that fateful screening will always be a part of our story. Because sometimes, the most unlikely of connections can lead to the most beautiful of relationships.
That and sometimes unwritten rules were made to be broken.
Blackcatloner 