I bought the movie 3:10 to Yuma because I’d heard it was good and because it was on sale for $5 and to rent it would have cost $3 anyway, so why not, you know? I had every intention of watching it that night, but I didn’t, nor did I watch it the next week, or the month after that, or anytime up to the present, which is 13 years later. I suspect I won’t watch it this year either, though I’m still keeping hope alive. We’ll see.

I don’t know what 3:10 to Yuma is about. I know it’s a western with Russell Crowe, and I assume it features a train going to Yuma. I further assume the movie is not about the train, much like how A Streetcar Named Desire technically features a streetcar and is in no way about said streetcar. But regardless, I don’t know what 3:10 to Yuma is about and I still haven’t watched it.

But I swear that I will. At this point, I absolutely have to.

Not long after I made an ill-advised decision to purchase a movie that is probably a western, I started buying video games and gaming systems off of Craigslist and reselling them on eBay for a tidy profit. It was a hobby that kept me busy, put a little money in my pocket and provided me with a steady supply of free video games, as I’d occasionally skim one off the top. Final Fantasy XII. The Warriors. The Force Unleashed. Odin Sphere. Freaking Odin Sphere.

Much like the titular movie that is currently sitting in my entertainment center, besides the up-next video games, I don’t really know what Odin Sphere is about. I think it’s a side-scrolling role playing game in the vein of Valkyrie Profile, where I’ll mash some buttons in a rhythm to swing a sword, cast spells, and turn into a dragon, whatever. I assume there’s some Norse mythology behind it (again, like Valkyrie Profile). I know it’s pretty, because I’ve looked at the back of the case a hundred times and contemplated playing it.

It looks pretty in a cartoon way, with bright characters and some gothic backgrounds. I read in a review that the music is really catchy, a bit sillier than expected, with lots of bleeps and bloops, but not without soaring orchestrals. But I couldn’t tell anyone “this is how it looks and this is how it sounds and this is how the controls feel when I press right.” Because I haven’t played it.

But I will play it. And I will watch 3:10 to Yuma. I have to at this point. I’ve made too many promises to myself to break these. But I have to do it the “right way.”

What is the right way to me? Why is it important to me to keep these silly promises that in no way will have an effect on my life? What’s the downside to never watching this Russell Crowe vehicle or never playing this game that may or may not center around Wednesday’s namesake? There is no downside. Nor is there upside. My life will (probably) not improve in any way for doing either activity. It’s rare for any pop culture to rock your world enough to change you.

But there’s always a chance it might.

I remember the time I was invited to go to the Radiohead concert with my then-girlfriend. They were playing a few miles away, promoting their newest album Kid A. I wasn’t a big fan of Kid A, nor was I a particularly good boyfriend, and also I was kind of lazy and cheap, so I passed. I said, “They’re not even going to play any songs off The Bends and those songs are the best anyway. I’ll catch them the next time they come around.”

She said fine, and she went without me, and Radiohead absolutely played half of The Bends, including my favorite song by them, “Just.” Oh and she absolutely ran into the entire band when she went to get a beer after the concert and the band was casually having drinks with their roadies. So that was neat. And, in the fifteen years since, they have not come around.

I remember my sophomore year of college when my buddy and I made plans to study abroad in England. We went and got the forms together, talked about how awesome it would be to eat fish and chips, watch football in pubs, date British women, and watch crappy shows on the BBC. It was going to be great. I was totally going to fill out the form before the deadline two months away.

Obviously, that form never got filled out and my buddy went without me, as did three of my other friends, who I didn’t know were applying. None of the four knew each other, though they all knew me. When they came back six months later, they were a tighter clique than I could imagine, because they played rugby together, drank in pubs, dated British women, traveled the continent. While they remained friends with me, they were now closer to one another than me. And me? I didn’t study abroad.

I remember missed connections with women, where I missed such clear signals as staring into my eyes for entire minutes while holding my hand and saying how beautiful the stars were. I recall not going to the bar one night and missing John Waters showing a movie and drinking with my buddies. I remember all of the trips skipped out on, phone calls not made, friends not made because I was afraid or lazy or just tired that day.

God, I’m so tired of all of that. And I have been for a long time.

I’ve always been a person who weighed regret versus inertia. I went to my high school prom not because I had any particular interest in it, but because I suspected that not-going would reverberate in my adulthood and cause pangs whenever I thought about it. I was almost definitely right, of course, but for some reason, I didn’t apply that kind of critical and emotional thinking to all aspects of my life. I’m not sure when the flip got switched. Maybe there was no particular moment when I said “enough” and became the person who didn’t let opportunities and experiences go by. I don’t think it matters very much.

I bought 3:10 to Yuma on a bit of a whim, but I wanted to watch it because I suspected it would be good. I held on to Odin Sphere because it looked neat and I thought it might entertain me. I’m probably right on both counts. I will almost definitely spend two hours with Russell Crowe in a western-style poncho (and maybe a train) and when it’s done, I’ll probably say “oh that was good” and then it’ll fade from my mind like smoke.

Chances are, I’ll play Odin Sphere and maybe I’ll beat it and maybe I won’t, but either way, I won’t have regretted my time. There will probably be some neat mechanic, or maybe some fun dialogue or pretty art that I’ll bring up in casual conversation with video game friends later. And then I’ll probably sell it for like $10 on eBay.       

However. There’s a small chance that Odin Sphere will be a transcendent experience. It’s possible that it will blow me away like my favorite games have done and that it will forever change how I look at gaming. Is it unlikely? Yes. Do unlikely things happen all the time? Also yes.

There’s no downside to giving things a shot. Or if there is, it’s negligible. It’s not even a time waste, because no new experience is ever wasted. It at least eliminates something you now know you don’t like. It’s knowledge. In other words, trying 3:10 to Yuma and Odin Sphere have nothing but upside.

I have never expected to fall in love and I never assumed that going out to the bar on a random night would lead to a transformative experience, or that talking to this random person in class would form a friend for life. Yeah, most of the time I didn’t fall in love and I didn’t have a transformative experience and I didn’t make a friend. But there was that one time I hung out in a Brooklyn bar with two buddies and somehow ended up in sushi place in Harlem with half a college volleyball team, three prostitutes and a Hell’s Angel, casually having conversation and laughing over some Maki.

That’s the good stuff. And there’s no way of experiencing it without giving stuff that you think you might like a chance. Like 3:10 to Yuma. Like Odin Sphere.

I sometimes wonder if I haven’t watched the damned movie or played that damned game on purpose. I wonder if maybe I like to keep it around to remind myself that I will not be that person. Like they’re reminders of who I used to be and who I don’t want to be again. I don’t miss out on opportunities anymore, either out of boredom or fear or whatever it may be. I’m a person who now prides himself on shooting his shot when given the chance.

Subconscious Me, I think, may have ulterior motives. He’s a tricksy devil.

Regardless of my possibly-hidden motives, I am a person who makes promises to himself. I promise to learn to play the drums when I retire. I promise to always say yes when a friend wants to get a coffee with me. I promise to play those video games that have been lurking in my cabinet for a decade, waiting for me to pick it up and put it in my console. I will not break those promises because I have no desire to miss out on life.

So goddamnit, I’m going to watch 3:10 to Yuma. Probably not today, but we’ll see.

Michael B. Tager is a writer and editor. Find more of his work at michaelbtager.com. He is mostly vegetables.