Saturday, July 14, 2007

They would of course dump the perfect model they were with

As I sit in my room plagued by thin walls, loud voices and an early Mass in the morning to look forward to, I am left to think about that which my mind always wanders to late at night after I've just finished watching a chick flick. Actually that which my mind always wanders to regardless, but I'm trying not to dwell. Then again, if you're a melancholic (and trust me, melancholics dwell), why fight it.
In "The Holiday," the old actor (whose name and character name I could look up rather quickly, but it doesn't matter for the moment) describes what the film world calls a "meet-cute." That moment when the guy and the girl encounter each other for the first time in a way that is memorable enough to spark a relationship but hopefully just mundane enough to make it seem actually possible. My favorite meet-cute in movies thus far I think has been the bar scene in Hitch, which could maybe be realistic enough to actually happen to somebody, but not to me. Anyway, the point of bringing up meet-cutes is that every time I watch a movie with one in it, I start to think about ones that might happen in my own life. And every time I think about it, I get depressed at how boring my life is and how few new people ever enter for more than a few minutes. The fact is I suck at meeting new people because I crave comfort. And any friends who would be just daring enough to force me to meet new people (and who I would actually trust to show me a good time in the process) are either in Colorado, Texas or Connecticut doing very little meeting new people of their own. It has occurred to me that a successful meet-cute, and in fact the entire point of one, succeeds because the people least expect it and so meeting this intriguing new person has just enough of a hint of the unknown to be exciting, but none of the expectation so as not to be disappointing.
Still, when you dwell as much as I do, the expectation creeps in there just the same. Only it's a very pessimistic expectation, and one that I am too much of a sissy to act on should the occasion arise anyway. I've just typed a whole lot of words to get the point across that I have very little hope for romance in the near future. I have very little hope for it in the far future as well, but I'm trying to live as much in the present as I can. As I watch my friends get engaged and married, I'm left with movie and book scenes running through my head. Wondering when someone might hold me for twenty minutes without any selfish thought; wondering when I might finally have couch time; wondering when someone could be anywhere in the world and chooses to be with me because life is better with me by his side; wondering when I could love someone so much that I ache for them; just wondering and wondering (when Eric's gonna be nicer). I had to put that in there. And now, with that line, the nostalgia (can you be nostalgic for the future?) is gone and I'm ready to try to sleep through the noise. I think they went outside anyway and at least the outer walls are thicker than the inner walls. Good night.

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I reserve the right to make this blog as worthless to read as I feel like, and also to write as infrequently as I deem necessary. Just thought I'd let you know since I finally decided to share my blog.