Bad Romance

I am a closeted romantic.

There.  I said it.  And look: The world is still on it’s axis.  Fish still swim, birds still fly – and if I were you, oh winged and gilled ones, I’d stay away from the Gulf of Mexico and tailing ponds in northern Alberta.  You’ll thank me later.

Here’s what I’m somewhat loathe for people to find out:  I want the girl to get the guy.  The good guy.  I squee over that special kiss.  The kiss between Robert Parks and Mary Maceachran in Gosford Park, or between Han Solo and Leia Organa in The Empire Strikes Back.  You know what I mean.  The good ones.  Living vicariously through these films, books, television shows, etc., means I never get to experience anything fun, but it does have it’s perks.  It means I don’t have to worry if the guy likes me, and should I call him, but act nonchalant so he can’t tell how desperate I am, but he knows I’m interested so he’ll make the first move; it means I don’t have to stress out about what our first kiss will be like; it means I don’t have to be disappointed about the fish-like quality of aforementioned kiss; and it means I don’t have the parents.  The parents, who as mentioned in a previous entry, tell me they’re glad their son looks past appearances; the parents who, the day after meeting me, tell me they made sure their son would please his wife on their wedding night (true story, folks!); or my favourite: call a family meeting to harangue me on how much affection is shown.  Really, lady, really?  It was your son who pulled me into the closet while you were in the kitchen but sure, my neck rub was waaaay out of line.

So when I’m done living vicariously (look at me, making it seem like I have a choice in the matter), I may not be able to do anything about the fish lips, but I can do this:  marry an orphan.

Or Lloyd Dobler.  His sister seems cool – and his nephew is cute.

 

To Know Lloyd Dobler is to Love Him.

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3 Comments

  1. I’m with ya sister! I’m all about the vicarious life of romance movies! But I even go a step further… I’m a sucker for the “damsel in distress” stuff. Carry a girl to safety and I melt 🙂 What can I say, I’m all mush inside 😉

  2. Booooo romance. I don’t think we can be friends now. 😛
    But I think the world loves romantics more than women who would rather watch Die Hard than Sex and the City.

  3. To be fair, I WOULD much rather watch Die Hard than Sex and the City. SJP sucks monkey balls.


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