I watched a terrible movie today: My Super Ex-Girlfriend, starring Uma Thurman and Luke Wilson. It was worse than the previews. It was anti-feminist, anti-woman, and everything in between. The plot was awful. The acting (aside from Thurman) was pitiful. It was an hour and 45 minutes wasted, which is why I'm embarrassed to admit that it had some impact on my thoughts about N and me.
At the end of the movie (I'm not spoiling it for you guys -- puh-LEASE do not rent and/or OnDemand this film) Luke Wilson looks at Uma Thurman and says something like, "We had some great times together, but it wasn't love. There, behind that curtain (or whatever) is a man who loves you." And some terribly middle-aged, short, goateed guy who had adored Uma since high school comes forward, and she looks excited, and they kiss, and we're expected to believe they live happily ever after.
I came away from that movie more depressed about my love life than I've been in some time. N is away this weekend, as I mentioned, and he texted me most of the day yesterday about what he was doing, etc., but he didn't ask me much about myself or my activities. Or anything related to me, actually. And he sent me one text this morning, in response to something I had sent him earlier, but I haven't heard anything from him otherwise.
After watching that sub-par film, I realized the following: I think about N all the time. I don't NEED to hear from him all the time, but he is with me constantly. I root for him. I wonder about him. I think about his skin. I reach for him in my dreams. I love him -- every inch of his body, every crazy thought that he has, and every silly thing that he does.
I kind of don't think he thinks the same thing about me. Will he get there? Maybe. I don't know. But the fact is that as busy with work as I'm sure he is, he's not calling. He's not texting. He is not in love with me.
I guess I'm destined for the middle-aged, goateed guy who's had a shrine to me since high school. And if that's the alternative to love, the alternative to N, I'll gladly take my spinster plaque and nail it to my wall in my rent-stabilized studio.