a lot like love
Tonight the curly red-head and I watched Kutcher's most recent romantic comedy, A Lot Like Love
We didn't rent it because we were in particularly sappy moods. I felt solid going into it. I was prepared to take nothing from it other than two sweet hours of Ashton prancing back and forth on the screen. Being his typical self. Awkward and gorgeous.
But of course.
He was awkward, gorgeous, and
the movie made me cry. Which, surprisingly, is a feat. Few films are capable of doing this, and this one gets a lot of credit because I wasn't even planning on crying. Pre-planned crying is also a requisite for a film's success in bringing me to tears.
However, I was caught off guard tonight. I wasn't ready for the chemistry and bold message of this very predictable movie. (Let's just say that in the beginning, the director/writer/whoever set up a timeline and foreshadowed phrases that gave me a good hint as to where the whole thing was going.) Looking past the otherwise transparent plot, Amanda Peet and Ashton Kutcher had great on-screen chemistry and convinced me to feel some mush on this seemingly Kleenex-free night.
In the movie, Kutcher's character Oliver has a set timeline for the things he wants to do in his life before he gets married and settles down. He doesn't compile a bundle of priorities; instead he orders his twenties in a way that puts goals first and love last. He takes his life for granted thinking that the only path is the one he
chooses and that he can control when love fits in. Even though he has an amazing, almost explosive connection with Emily (Peet's character), he lets her go when he feels that he's about to get a grasp of the big career he's planned out.
How can people do this? I realized while I watched him do it in the movie that I've considered myself prone to this kind of behavior. This self-serving life first love later
attitude. As if the two cannot co-exist. Like I'm waiting for the right moment, not the right person.
Where did this stupid timeline come from, and have I already let something go that can't be recovered?
I haven't an answer. Or a clue. But I feel suddenly affected by the notion of an instant. I've always subscribed to the "you had me at hello" genre of romance, but it's always been from a purely hypothetical place. Right now I am utterly convinced that from here on out, I need to pay more attention to being alive and letting life mean whatever makes me full of passion and energy for love.
It's strange how this movie has impacted my ability to go to bed empty-headed tonight as I had planned. Now I am going to think. Long and hard about the possibility of seeing someone for the first time being a lot like love. If the right emotion is there, who cares when the next meeting is? Or if I have to achieve whatever status by whatever age? Because love shouldn't be put on layaway. I've never been the type to go back and buy something anyways.
I think I might actually be ready. Why? Because I cannot fathom having even a few seconds of this amazing thing and letting it go. Who would? That's just... insane.
Or maybe I'm not ready, and really, I'm just in post-romantic comedy jello heart mode.
Maybe this is a lot like every other time I fall into a downspiral of loneliness.
I am sick of asking.
Where's the man to give the answers?