I hate the way you talk to me

and the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car,

I hate it when you stare

I hate your big dumb combat boots

and the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick,

it even makes me rhyme.

I hate the way you're always right,

I hate the way you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh,

even worse when you make me cry.

I hate it when you're not around,

and the fact that you didn't call.

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you,

not even close,

not even a little bit,

not even at all.

No Strings Attached

It wasn't the best movie I have seen. As a matter of fact, it is not that great, and the ending is completely predictable. Even Natalie Portman as the main actress couldn't save it.

 However, it is a movie that I can certainly relate myself with.  I watched it on the plane home, while going through everything that has happened to me the past year in my head and trying to rationalize myself out of the situations, as always.  Such perfect timing, ironically.

I imagine myself as Emma some years later, working 80 hours a week, buried myself in the Emergency Room with no life. Possible, very possible, that if I can make it through med school.

I laugh at what she says, because I, myself, have said similar things:

"May be we should establish ground rules. No lying, no jealousy, no emergeny contact."

" No starring deeply into each other's eyes."

" Don't call me in the afternoon and just say I am thinking about you."

Immediately, I thought:    No, Emma, you were just trying to shield your heart from the possibility of being broken, the same way I protect mine.

But sometimes, your heart takes over, and you do things that later on you'll beat yourself about it, thinking "Why on earthy did I do something like that?"

Emma: [reads card] You give me premature ventricular contractions.

Adam: I'm assuming that's a good thing.

Emma: You make my heart skip a beat. 

And when you have to confront the confession, you get scared. You become cynical, laughing things off, pushing people away and turning on your "denial" mode:

"Adam, you're wonderful. If you're lucky you're never gonna see me again"

"Yeah, talking. Communicating. Relationship stuff. If we were in a relationship I would become a weird scary version of myself. My throat starts constricting. The walls start throbbing. It's like a peanut allergy, like an emotional peanut allergy"

"No. Things were getting too intense so we decided not to see each other until we hook up with other people" 

However,  one day, you realize that, deep inside your heart, the relationship you have is more than just "sex friends", "friends with benefits", or "fuck buddies". And out of the sudden, you want to pick up the phone and call him just to tell him:

"I miss you. I miss you so much"

The movie ends the conventional way, as many other romantic comedies that I have digested. But I had tears in my eyes, because, despite how much I want to, I just can't bring myself to pick up the phone and tell him how much I miss him.

I'm not ready to purchase two boxes of 50 doughnut holes to get over my broken heart. 
I'm not ready to be hurt, yet.

 [az]

Chick porn.

“I do know that if I don’t ask you to be mine, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life”

[Runaway Bride]

“I love that you get cold when it's seventy degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend a day with you I can still smell your perfume on my clothes, and I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night.”

[When Harry Met Sally]

“I think I’d miss you even if we’d never met.” [The Wedding Date]

“You had me at hello.” [Jerry Maguire]

These are all lines from a genre of film I affectionately refer to as… Chick Porn. Why chick porn? Well when put into context of how we, as women, view “regular porn” as unrealistic portrayals of a man’s idealistic view of a woman, it’s exactly the same. Chick Porn is a woman’s unrealistic view of an idealized man. We watch these movies (I'm thinking about re-watching "How to lose a guy in 10 days" tonight) and develop these subconscious expectations of our boyfriends, husbands, or future spouses. When life is less glamorous than Breakfast at Tiffany’s, we blame the guy, when really we bring this upon ourselves. I’m not implying we should all swear off romantic comedies and dramas (obviously, I watch them too, as much a sarcastic and cynical person I am), but I do think that we should be aware of how they affect us. I know for some friends, this means that they literally cannot watch movies that make them lust after a fictional scenario and for others it means bringing the knowledge of reality to the forefront of their minds and not holding anyone accountable to ridiculous expectations.

Life is not a movie, much to my dismay. You don’t always meet your soul-mate dancing in the rain or on the observation deck of the Empire State Building, but who wants to be in love with a story? The real thing is better.