think a good chick flick is just what the doctor ordered,” she said as the two of us settled onto the sofa.
The movie opened with the heroine walking to work through her neighborhood as a perky pop tune played and the credits showed on the screen. It was an eerily familiar situation. “Do you ever have days when you feel like that, where you can practically hear the song on the soundtrack?” Florence asked. I turned to see if she was joking, but she looked serious.
“I guess,” I said with a shrug. It did look an awful lot like some of my recent mornings had felt.
Then the movie got going. As usual, the heroine had a boyfriend who was obviously wrong for her when the right guy fell into her life. “Sometimes, I just want to smack some sense into these chicks,” Florence said, shaking her head in frustration. “Shouldn’t it be obvious that this is the wrong guy?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem too bad.” I wasn’t sure why I was defending him, though. I didn’t think I’d want to date him.
“He’s boring. I’ll tell you what he is: He’s the safety net. The comfort zone. He’s not going to challenge her, but she’s also not going to grow when she’s with him.”
“Are you trying to tell me something?” I asked.
She raised her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just watching the movie. In real life, though, she’d ditch him in a heartbeat for the heartthrob. She just sticks with him because otherwise it would be the world’s shortest movie. Girl meets Mr. Right, realizes it, and dumps Mr. Wrong. The End.”
In spite of her denial, I thought she sounded rather personally invested in the situation. Of course, the heroine started spending more time with the leading man, and then they fell in love in a montage of romantic scenes set to a swoony pop ballad. This part gave me shivers because I’d felt like that a couple of times lately. It was the way I remembered my entire relationship with Josh, and it was the way days spent with Owen seemed to go.
“Is something wrong? You look a little pale,” Florence said, nudging me.
I shook my head. “I think I’ve had a few montage days lately. And why is it the good stuff that goes by in a montage? Why can’t we dispense with a boring day at work with a coffee montage?”
She laughed, but her eyes looked serious. At the end of the movie, she said, “See, that’s how it needs to work out. She realizes her mistake and rushes to make sure she doesn’t lose the right guy.”
“But does she have to do it in a bridesmaid’s dress while riding a scooter?”
“The point is that she does it, no matter how difficult or inconvenient it is. When you know the right thing to do, you just do it.”
I quirked an eyebrow at her. “I believe you’ve made your point. I might miss out on something amazing with Owen if I insist on clinging to Josh, the Mr. Wrong safety net. But life isn’t a romantic comedy movie. In real life, the safe guy is the best bet.”
“Hey, you’re the one who said you’re living montages.”
“I was joking! Nobody lives montages. We live life.”
“If that’s what you call it.” She helped me clean up, and as she went to go, she placed her hand firmly on my shoulder. “I just want you to have the best. I made some mistakes—been there, done that, got the divorce papers. Don’t rush into anything, and be sure of what you want.”
“And no riding scooters in hoopskirts.”
“Only if you’re into that sort of thing. See you in the morning.”
When she was gone, I was left mulling over what she’d said. In the movie, the heroine had ignored her friends’ advice, and I didn’t think I was that type, but I couldn’t remember any friends before Florence. I also couldn’t remember any boyfriends before Josh. My memories before a week or so ago were blurry and consisted only of a few key moments, but if I tried to push beyond that, I hit a wall. I had photos in my apartment of family members, and I knew they
The movie opened with the heroine walking to work through her neighborhood as a perky pop tune played and the credits showed on the screen. It was an eerily familiar situation. “Do you ever have days when you feel like that, where you can practically hear the song on the soundtrack?” Florence asked. I turned to see if she was joking, but she looked serious.
“I guess,” I said with a shrug. It did look an awful lot like some of my recent mornings had felt.
Then the movie got going. As usual, the heroine had a boyfriend who was obviously wrong for her when the right guy fell into her life. “Sometimes, I just want to smack some sense into these chicks,” Florence said, shaking her head in frustration. “Shouldn’t it be obvious that this is the wrong guy?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem too bad.” I wasn’t sure why I was defending him, though. I didn’t think I’d want to date him.
“He’s boring. I’ll tell you what he is: He’s the safety net. The comfort zone. He’s not going to challenge her, but she’s also not going to grow when she’s with him.”
“Are you trying to tell me something?” I asked.
She raised her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just watching the movie. In real life, though, she’d ditch him in a heartbeat for the heartthrob. She just sticks with him because otherwise it would be the world’s shortest movie. Girl meets Mr. Right, realizes it, and dumps Mr. Wrong. The End.”
In spite of her denial, I thought she sounded rather personally invested in the situation. Of course, the heroine started spending more time with the leading man, and then they fell in love in a montage of romantic scenes set to a swoony pop ballad. This part gave me shivers because I’d felt like that a couple of times lately. It was the way I remembered my entire relationship with Josh, and it was the way days spent with Owen seemed to go.
“Is something wrong? You look a little pale,” Florence said, nudging me.
I shook my head. “I think I’ve had a few montage days lately. And why is it the good stuff that goes by in a montage? Why can’t we dispense with a boring day at work with a coffee montage?”
She laughed, but her eyes looked serious. At the end of the movie, she said, “See, that’s how it needs to work out. She realizes her mistake and rushes to make sure she doesn’t lose the right guy.”
“But does she have to do it in a bridesmaid’s dress while riding a scooter?”
“The point is that she does it, no matter how difficult or inconvenient it is. When you know the right thing to do, you just do it.”
I quirked an eyebrow at her. “I believe you’ve made your point. I might miss out on something amazing with Owen if I insist on clinging to Josh, the Mr. Wrong safety net. But life isn’t a romantic comedy movie. In real life, the safe guy is the best bet.”
“Hey, you’re the one who said you’re living montages.”
“I was joking! Nobody lives montages. We live life.”
“If that’s what you call it.” She helped me clean up, and as she went to go, she placed her hand firmly on my shoulder. “I just want you to have the best. I made some mistakes—been there, done that, got the divorce papers. Don’t rush into anything, and be sure of what you want.”
“And no riding scooters in hoopskirts.”
“Only if you’re into that sort of thing. See you in the morning.”
When she was gone, I was left mulling over what she’d said. In the movie, the heroine had ignored her friends’ advice, and I didn’t think I was that type, but I couldn’t remember any friends before Florence. I also couldn’t remember any boyfriends before Josh. My memories before a week or so ago were blurry and consisted only of a few key moments, but if I tried to push beyond that, I hit a wall. I had photos in my apartment of family members, and I knew they
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