Romantic Comedies Must Die

Remind me when this became my life? (Apparently we're back to that.)

I just watched the Jane Austin Book Club (neither the film nor the book were as fantastic as I hoped - try The Reading Group instead. But anyway...). When they got to the end where the right people finally kiss, I didn't get the heartwarming reaction I usually get in spite of myself. I just wanted to cry. It's a mean trick they play. They suck me into their world where people in relationships are only a fraction of the complicated and guarded mess that they are in real life (myself included). It's not real, but I enter the dangerous territory of wishing it was. And any image of people waking up next to each other makes me ache with longing. Bad combination.

Interestingly, the two most recent inappropriate men both resurfaced briefly last week. Karmic Pop Quiz? I managed to retain my dignity and walk away, although one of them more easily than the other. Luckily, I have good friends to help the "stop it/don't go there" voice be louder than the others for now...

P.S. on 2.13.08: I may not have technically walked away from one of them after all. Somehow I got sucked back in and even ended up asking/daring the football coach to meet for another drink. I was feeling momentarily tough. He doesn't get to flirt with me anymore if he doesn't mean it. Apparently. Luckily, he said he was busy. So I called him a wimp. And so goes the 7th grade banter...

What is wrong with me?! Just walk away, lady. Logic and self-preservation have obviously abandoned me. I blame pheromones.