...and cupid winced

I never had a Once. I never even had an Almost Once. I always fantasized that family trips would lead me to the man of my dreams, maybe for just one week, and definitely in some exotic locale. We could scuba dive and feed feral monkeys and watch the waves crash and pledge to never forget each other.

Since the last family vacay my parents and I went on involved grave rubbings in Salem, it's probably better that cupid missed that twisted boat.

I loved this movie though. It's heartbreaking to think of quelling that perpetual tug, the distance of a "what if." This is why I love depressing romantic movies so much....this is how Brokeback Mountain made my top favorites. There's something so much more visceral about love separated by societal hatred than there is about Jennifer Lopez realizing her soulmate is a sneaky groom whose wedding she's planning. Give me a break.

I realize it's a little fucked up for me to prefer Brad Pitt to find his wife's head in a box at the end of Seven than for him to just arrest Kevin Spacey and have life return to status quo, but so be it. There's no heart tugging in happily-ever-after and, really, there's not much reality in that either. You might have your heart broken 10 times before it fits perfectly into someone else's. Of course, not everyone wants to pay to have it vicariously broken through a fictional character. But I do. I'll pay $8.50 to stick my heart in a blender while Tristan Ludlow's brother, first love, and second love all die tragically and doom him to an estranged, desolate life. I'll do it twice.

Don't get me wrong, I love The Notebook as much as the next girl. I'm not completely anti-chick flicks, and I am certainly far from being a hardass, but if I'm going to cry, I just want it to be over a plot worth the Kleenex.

And tonight, Brian and I will be watching Six Feet Under. Happy Valentine's Day :)