I did something out of character last night, something that I'm a little embarrassed to admit... I watched a chick flick. And not just any chick flick, mind you. I succumbed to my hormonal urges and watched Enchanted--the most current archetype of all that is chick flick. And let me just say while I'm on this train of self-imposed confession, that it was lovely, and made me feel something that I don't usually feel on a daily basis: warm-blooded. Yes, it turns out that I am a normal human being, and am subject to feeling, like so many do out there in this vast world, warm and fuzzy and enamored inside.
For a few good hours I, like Giselle and Robert were probably doing as they danced their little hearts out in the ball scene, basked in the excitement and pure happiness that newly discovered love brings. For a few good hours, I indulged in the thought that if Giselle could find true love, perhaps an insignificant woman as I could bump into it someday too. And these thoughts followed me until I jumped into the shower and got a cold, startling jolt back to reality. There is no such thing as happy fairy tale endings anymore, at least not for me, and unfortunately many good people out there.
I like to observe subjects; maybe you've gathered as much by now from reading my blog heading. In the many situations that I've observed people, couples, I've come to a few conclusions: when that newness of love wears off, people's personalities and blunt or subtle honesties make their appearances; people now-a-days tend to confuse their feelings of "like" for "love"; and sadly, people are very self-absorbed when it comes to their own personal happiness, and as our current national trend shows, they forget about that partner that they've committed their love and life to and abandon them when their marriage--that legally and emotionally binding commitment--has become a burden rather than a convenience to them. These conclusions weren't simply derived from observance of others, they were collected from personal experiences as well.
Maybe you're thinking to yourself, God, she's a cynic. Maybe I am. Rejection and heartbreak, others as much as my own, have encouraged me to be one. I don't hate love, though. I'm simply selfish and don't want to partake of what everyone in this world defines as "love". Is that so wrong of me to say? To actively and willingly exercise? It's been forever since I've felt the rush that enamoredness can bring. And I'll admit, sitting on the couch watching Law & Order reruns on a Friday night does get a little stale after a while. But I just don't want to take the risk of telling someone "I love you" only to have it end a few months or years, or whatever, later. I think that act alone is the most selfish and atrocious offense that can and is exchanged, regularly might I add, between human beings. I just do not want to participate in that trend.
So until my observations lead me to a different conclusion concerning the topic of love I will have to resort to being the quiet cheerleader for those who do fall in love, and are successful in making it last, on TV and movies. Sad, I know, but whatever. Go eat a pie.
P.S.- Here's my, and many other women's, favorite scene from Enchanted. Turn up the volume, hug your pillow and enjoy!
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