I don’t know if this has ever happened to you. You are sitting with your flatmate and decide that what you really need – more than anything else in the world – is to watch “The Notebook”. Seriously. I know what you are thinking: Who are you and what have you done with Alicia. Is this the same girl who revels in Zombie movies and gratuitous violence? Well my friends, I am multi layered. I have facets. I am totally dimensional. I am a regular Rubik’s Cube of interests.
From the first soft piano that accompanies white geese flying toward a humongous orange sunset, The Notebook racks up the sugary cliches… and I loved all of them. It was well done. There I said it. “The Notebook” was a good movie. Shit. Now that we have gotten that out of the way can I continue my story? Thank you.
So, there I was sitting in The Love Den (oh, we have permanently pulled our couches out into beds, and covered the ceiling lamp with some orange material so it looks like the set of a porn in my living room 24/7. Sweet.) with my flatmate Allie wondering what to do. “Let’s totally watch ‘The Notebook‘”, I say.
“Hell yeah!” says Allie. We both proceed to put on our softies and lock ourselves in the Love Den.
We needed to watch it. There are times when women need to believe that in real life, there exists boys like Noah, Rick from “Casablanca” or Llyod Dobler. I mean, is it really to much to ask for a boy to stand outside of my window while holding a boom box that is playing Tom Wait’s “Blind Love”? (Yeah…I know it was “in your eyes” but that song blows. Seriously. If a guy did that, I would tell him to come back when he got some fucking taste.) Is it to much for men to show their passion for something other than sports?
Upon completion of “The Notebook” Allie and I were both a little teary and a little pissed. We realized that we had – over time – set the bar pretty fucking low. I mean when did I go from wanting a guy who will bring me flowers and make me mix tapes to just hoping that some guy will text me? TEXT ME! Not even a real live phone call! Allie and I got some cheap as fuck beer, and some even cheaper (what is cheaper than that) Whiskey and decided to answer “Noah’s” all so passionate question from near the end of the film.
WHAT DO YOU WANT?
The whiskey flowed and the list grew.
What we realized pretty quick that maybe the reason that we didn’t have what we wanted was because we didn’t know what we wanted. I don’t want to get all Carrie Bradshaw on you but – when did women stop wanting things for themselves? When did we start wanting to please men and forget about ourselves?
I remember when I was a little girl, I had a complete list of things that I wanted in a boyfriend. I knew I wanted a guy who looks good in jeans. I wanted a guy with long hair. (hey…I was little…give me a break) I wanted a guy who was a good dancer – like Carmine Ragusa from Laverne and Shirley. I knew exactly what I wanted.
Now? I guess I had shortened the list down to: he looks good in jeans.
We didn’t text the boys we like on pure principal of our day with Whiskey and “The Notebook”.
They showed up.
We were happy.
One step at a time.