If you’re reading this list, it’s most likely been a significant part of your life as well. The movie theater. A place where little socialization actually occurs when the lights dim and that green banner fades up, informing those in front of it there’s a preview on the way. Once that trailer starts, however, something social happens. You, and everyone sitting around you, may be in for the best batch of trailers, followed by the best movie, ever made.

Sure, the chances are slim you’ll recognize something like that the minute you walk out of theater and if you do you’ll be lying to yourself. But, all of that aside, your life is changed every time you see a movie, because you’ve seen something you haven’t seen before. Even if it was a cliche-ridden exercise in genre (as most films, in fact, are), it was different. It was different because you saw it for the first time, and, whether you know it or not at the time, it had an effect on you.

Years later, the movie stays with you. Somewhere in there, love it or hate it, it remains, and it takes only an actor, a director, a title or (God-willing for the screenwriter) a line to recall that film and, with it, that experience in the theater: who you were with, how you felt that night and everything that happened after it.

Most all movies are “dated.” Let us not forget that we, the movie-goer, are dated with them.

Here’s how films have dated me.

In chronological order:

My First Bloodbath: Gladiator (Summer 2000)

Sitting with a group of 12-year olds (at a birthday party), we all shuddered in anticipation as Maximus’ hand caressed the wheat fields of what surely had to be Ancient Rome. Lisa Gerrard sung to us softly, and the romance I felt surprised me. Five minutes later, I was dunked in blood and metal as heads catapulted from, well, catapults and men fell holding stomachs that were no longer there. Equate it to the “Godfather Baptism” if you’d like, I was forever changed by Ridley Scott and Russell Crowe and I left the theater feeling older, wiser but forever scared of what “make believe” looked like when it looked real.

My First Bad Movie: The Glass House (Fall 2001)

I don’t know when I knew it. Perhaps it was after the seventh jump scare in the first 30 minutes; perhaps it was when I realized the title’s pun (the family’s named Glass and their house is made of…glass); or perhaps it wasn’t until a week later. But, at some point within the vicinity of my going to the theater to see The Glass House, I soon accepted that what I had, or rather what my parents had, paid for was something bad. Something mediocre. The people acting on the big screen weren’t doing their jobs well, and whoever was behind the camera wasn’t recognizing that it was happening or worse, recognized it but didn’t care, which meant he was doing his job even worse.

My First Walk Out: A Beautiful Mind (Winter 2001/02)

Fitting for the stage of my life, I walked out of Ron Howard’s Best Picture winner for a girl. I was enjoying it enough (I’ve always liked the beginning far more than the end of the film, actually) but she was bored. And I was confused about girls, knowing only enough to know that I’d follow her out because maybe I’d get something in return. What exactly that something was that I wanted I wouldn’t (and perhaps still haven’t) found out until much later in life.

My First Post-Movie Kiss: Garden State (Winter 2004)

Speaking of girls, this one still sits close to my heart. It took me some time after (my date and I walked around the mall at least twice before we got outside and I planted a kiss in the parking lot, like a gentleman) but it was worth every sweaty-palmed second. The kiss was shorter than it should have been but I was nervous. Moments later, her mother picked us up in her mini-van and drove us home. Neither of us had our driver’s license yet.

My First Flip-Fop: Mr. and Mrs. Smith (Summer 2005)

So it begins, a lifetime of film criticism full of “wait, did I say/write that?”s. Doug Liman’s Mr. and Mrs. Smith. My girlfriend loved it, I thought it was ridiculous. To be fair, that day I also thought she was ridiculous, and the argument we got into on the drive home didn’t help my opinion of the film. She kept talking about how much she loved the sex and romance and how good the two stars were together. I kept talking about how the action was silly. Now, I re-watch the movie because I love the sex and the romance and how good the two stars are together.

My First Sweat: Red Eye (Summer 2005)

Do you remember when you first felt what the edge of a seat felt like? The first time you realized you’d left your mouth open for 15 minutes on end because you weren’t sure the hero (or, in this case, heroine) was going to make it out alive. All of that for me happened here, in the theater for Wes Craven’s masterful Red Eye. I left wanting more suspense. More stakes. More danger. It was a rush. My body felt sore afterwards because my muscles were so tight during the experience. I knew then why people love scary movies.

My First Education: Syriana (Winter 2005/06)

If every movie we watch changes us in some way, this one changed the way I thought about international politics and remains one of the only films that have made me feel smarter after watching it. It was like getting punched in the face by every side of the oil issue, complimented by some of the more powerful performances and some of the best writing of the year. The final explosion on screen may as well have gone off in my brain. I walked, more like stumbled, out of the theater prepping my mind to talk to my friends about what we’d just seen. They were confused and, hell, so was I. But my thoughts had never been clearer.

My First Press Screener: She’s The Man (Spring 2006)

I felt like royalty. At that time I was an ambitious high school student doing freelance work for my local newspaper. One day I got an email asking if I’d like to represent the publication as their critic for the upcoming film She’s The Man. The movie was free for me and a guest. I took my girlfriend and we entered the movie theater like celebrities. There was a line of people waiting to buy their tickets. Buy their tickets, HA! Soo last week. My girlfriend and I both really enjoyed the movie, even though, in hindsight, it wasn’t strong. Blame it on entitlement. I’ve paid for many, many movies since.

My First Love: The Fountain/Children of Men (Winter 2006/07)

Call it a meet cute. You meet a beautiful girl with piercing eyes at a party that’s, as if deemed by God, NOT so loud you can’t hear everybody around. So you introduce yourself and the two of you talk the entire night, and it’s there. Whatever it is? It’s there in between those words that make up that conversation. So you get her number and you court her properly, no matter how much money and time it costs. And you fall in love. I drove 45 minutes away to the theater (twice) in one winter to see both of these movies. I fell in love (twice) that winter and renewed my reasons to keep going to the movies: the greatest winter of my life.

My First Absorption: Zodiac (Spring 2007)

Call this a reaffirmation of the above. Only months after my first love, a group of us traversed to the theater in a dreary March to put our faith in David Fincher. And he delivered us into some sort of heart of darkness, where everyone can think of nothing else except the Zodiac Killer, his methods and, most importantly, his identity. This became less of a film and more of an investigation for me. When Gyllenhaal’s Graysmith gets stuck in the basement with someone who surely must be the Zodiac, beads of sweat rolled down my face and my eyes started to blur. He’s going to kill me down here, I thought. I’ve got to get out of here. Luckily, Graysmith did, and so did I. Only when the credits rolled did I remember this was all years ago and I had just watched a feature film.

And there they are, the top ten. They’ve been a big part of my life, whether I like it or not. But of course I like it. I love movies, good and bad.

What are your most memorable movie theater experiences?