On magnifying the situation

So I just went to see Definitely, Maybe, and while it was in most ways fairly standard chick flick fare, it was rather exceptionally well done chick flick fare. Well, the movie was slightly unusual in that it started with the end of a relationship - a divorce, to be precise - and moves from there through varying stages into love and happiness of varying degrees and types. It has, of course, a happy ending, but we all knew that. The presence of Ryan Reynolds may also have had a factor in how much I enjoyed the movie, because I think he, with his combination of flippant humor and charm, was perfect for the movie. Chris Evans has sort of a similar appeal, but probably would have seemed entirely too young for the role.

Okay, okay - and Ryan Reynolds is unreasonably attractive. As is Chris Evans.

At any rate, what's more striking is that as Luis (yes, we're still friends) and I walked out of the movie theatre, my reaction was a combination of, "What a lovely movie," and a sort of resigned, "Now if only reality actually worked that way." Since I'm almost constantly looking at and evaluating my own reactions to things, my second response was, "Huh...when did I become a cynic?"

I say this because the events of the movie happen over the course of...actually, over the course of over a decade. That's a very long time for relationships to evolve, for that happy ending to come, and so it's probably even a fairly realistic look at the deal. We fall in love with people, but circumstances aren't right. People fall in love with us, but for whatever reason we feel we can't reciprocate that love. We fall out of love with people whom we've loved for years. We fall back in love with people who now are attached to others. The movie - almost all movies, really - supposes that somewhere along the line, we find somebody that will make us happy, and vice versa. For the rest of our lives.

And...I know I used to believe that back in high school. I certainly believed it in college as well. But somewhere between college and now, possibly when I came to New York, all these doubts started sinking in. Kind of like particles of dust and ash that slowly stain a white (or mostly white) sheet, and suddenly one day you look up and realize the sheet has turned more of a...peppery gray, than the color it used to be. Somehow, my initial reaction isn't to say, "Oh yes, true love, the kind of love that lasts, is possible for everyone" anymore. And, what bugs me is that this happened without my conscious realization. I just sort of looked up from my life today and realized that somewhere along the lines my response to happy endings went from "how cute" to "how unrealistic."

I'm certainly not bitter (at least...not as far as I'm aware). I'm still certainly hopeful, and thus optimistic. I don't really think I've gotten cynical, and yet...there it is. Or maybe it's just this introduction of a middle level, because I'm inclined to believe that even the most jaded cynic still believes in love and happiness, kind of like jewelry that becomes tarnished and encrusted with grime over the course of varying ages. Or, hell, maybe it's just all the things that have surfaced in my life lately, all sort of happening at once.

Or perhaps I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. Or an antmound, for that matter. I've been told that I do that.

Because I suddenly feel considerably better. Once again, the power of writing, folks.