Bittersweet Symphony
Today is Thursday, one week ago was Valentine’s Day. I had an awesome V-Day, consisting of a cheeseburger with sweet potato fries and a Matchbox Twenty concert with my bff Suzanne. I’ll admit that I’ve been bitter in the past but this year I was actually just complacent about it. I was really interested in what my friends who have significant others were doing and what presents they were giving and receiving and all of that, and I got some money from my grandma and chocolate from my mom and I was a happy girl. I really don’t mind being single these days, probably because I’m too busy to even hang out with my regular friends let alone start dating a total stranger.
But that’s not what this blog is about. I noticed something last Thursday. No particular incident or conversation made me think of it, it’s just a realization that came drifting into my head. This happens to me a lot, and will probably be the basis of many blogs to come. This is the question that slowly formed itself in my mind, and to which I still don’t have a real answer: Why is it that people can watch movies and television shows with couples kissing, hugging, and just generally being adorable with each other and say “Awww!!! How great! What a great thing that just happened! I love that! They are SO cute together!!!” but when it happens in real life in a train station or at an airport or on a street corner we say “Ewww, get a room! That’s gross! Ugh, people. Disgusting.”? Why does this happen? I think it would be cuter if we could instead consider ourselves part of a scene in that particular couple’s love story. Like an extra.
I’m thinking of my favorite scene from one of my favorite movies “Cruel Intentions,” when Sebastian realizes that he loves Annette and goes to meet her at Penn Station and she comes riding up the escalator to see him waiting there and they start to make out right there at the top of the escalator with people politely stepping around them and the music playing and it’s all so touching and amazing and adorable. I love it. Now, I’m in Penn Station a lot and if that ever happened in real life, first of all people would not be politely stepping around them as they mack it. This is New York City, and New Yorkers are really nice (I swear) but they are not polite. I’m not even sure how I would react, because I wouldn’t know the whole story as to why this was happening and I wouldn’t have any sensitive music swelling louder and louder in the background and I’m almost positive the couple would not be as hot as Ryan Phillipe and Reese Witherspoon. They were an awesome-looking couple who spawned awesome looking clone-children and I’m very sad they had to break up. But I think he cheated, which is another blog all together.
Anyway, my point is this: From now on, whenever I see a couple in a loving embrace on a street corner or on a park bench or at the airport I’m going to try my best to picture their love story and just say “awww” to myself and smile, and I think you should too. Because I’d like to think that these movies and television shows aren’t just total and complete bullshit. And I’d like to imagine that someday, I’ll get my own love story and I’ll be too wrapped up in it to even realize that rude New Yorkers are screaming at me to get a room.
For the record, this resolution does not apply to human beings under the age of 18. When I see 14 year olds totally sucking face at a bus stop or Applebee’s I just get grossed out, feel like a Pedo, and imagine the poor unfortunate baby that is about to come from that teen pregnancy. Gross.
