Not Into This

When I sat down at the computer to write this blog, I had intended to write about my recent trip to Aruba with Alex.  It was a great trip, very relaxing, and filled with loads of entertaining anecdotes I intended to share with my blog readers.  For example, I wanted to expound upon the wonder that is Aruban beef cuisine.  The trouble is, when I sat down to look in my trusty blog moleskine to see what I wanted to say about the trip, all I could focus on was the little note I made about a movie I watched three times the week we went away: He’s Just Not That Into You.

I suppose I ought to explain why I watched it three times in a week.  I borrowed the DVD from my dad and watched it on my own one night with a glass of wine.  But I thought there were some pieces that were so very true that I made Alex watch it with me the next night.  And then JetBlue had the same movie as the feature on our flight from Aruba to NYC.  Oops.  That’s what always happens, isn’t it?

The trouble is, by the time I got to my third viewing, I was pissed off at the movie.  I felt it was rather disappointing in its message.

In case you haven’t seen the movie, I advise you to not read any further because what I am about to say will be a spoiler for you.

He’s Just Not That Into You is a movie based on a book written by Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo by the same title.  I’ve read the book.  I think I still own a copy of it.  The whole point of the book is to explain why women should get over guys that don’t show interest, because it’s OK that not every guy is interested.  It also gives hints to identify this behavior in men you might be currently involved with.  The movie picks up this theme, and weaves together a bunch of storylines that all involve some variation of “he/she’s not that into you.”  One of the male characters has a sort-of mantra: you’re the rule, not the exception.  Just because girls tell each other stories about a friend of a friend of a cousin who had some guy be a total jerk but then wound up getting married to the jerk and being happy doesn’t mean life will go that way for you, because that’s the exception, not the rule, he says.

I think this is fantastic for women to hear.  I know I spent way more time than I ever should have making excuses or reassuring myself with some story about someone else’s life that gave me hope for my loser of a boyfriend.  Most women fall into that trap.  I think that’s why the book was so successful when it was published – successful enough that a self-help book was turned into a major motion picture with actors like Scarlett Johansson, Jennifer Aniston, Ben Affleck, and Jennifer Connolly to boot.  I also have pretty strong opinions about Hollywood conditioning women to expect “the fairy tale” when it comes to love, and how that can actually sabotage real-life relationships, so I had high hopes for this movie.  (See blogs here and here if you are curious about my opinions on fairy-tale love expectations.)

So you can imagine my disappointment when He’s Just Not That Into You turned out to be merely another example of a cheesy Hollywood ending, where the main characters turn out to be the exception, not the rule, and everyone is happy in the end.  WTF?!  Even the male character (name happens to be Alex) who insists most people are the rule ends up making an exception!  It’s the worst cliche ending!  This movie is not appropriate for Anti-Valentine’s Day parties at all – which is exactly what it was marketed as, because it was released just in time for Valentine’s Day 2009.

To be fair, I did watch the movie 3 times, so obviously there must have been something about it that at least entertained me.  And there was.  The truth behind some of the characters’ frustrations was incredibly funny to watch and relate to.  Social media networks for finding romance, the silly things girls do when a guy hasn’t called them yet, and guys do when they are playing “the game” … all these things make the movie fun to watch once.

I’m just not sold on it being a movie for people who are single and looking for an escape from the typical romantic comedy.

The Couch’s Tale

Perhaps you’ve noticed my lack of blogging lately – perhaps you haven’t.

I have a pretty good reason for the writing hiatus: I moved.

Moving is a pain, I think most people would agree with that statement.  But it becomes even more painful when in the process of the move you are forced to forfeit one of your prized possessions.

This is exactly what happened to me this past Saturday.

I have – or should I say HAD – a really nice couch.  It was big and comfy, but not in an ugly way.  It was covered in sage-colored microfiber, so it was soft.  It had loads of pillows.  It had a full-sized pull-out bed in it.  And, most importantly, it was the very first piece of real furniture I ever owned.  This couch was mine.  It wasn’t passed down when one of my parents redecorated, or inherited from a roommate who left it behind.  It was bought brand-new, for me, chosen by me.  It went to three different apartments with me over 6 years.  It saw me through lots of tough times – the kind of times when all you want to do is curl up on your couch with a blanket and a tub of ice cream and the remote control or a good book and a bottle of wine.

It would probably be a fair statement that I have a sentimental attachment to this couch.

I was a bit worried that there would be  a problem moving it into my new apartment.  The new place certainly has room for it, I wasn’t worried about that.  No, I was worried about the physics of it making its way through the front door to the apartment.  I didn’t see how it would fit.  However, I had professional movers doing my heavy lifting, so I figured, hey, they’re professionals!  They must know a way to move a couch into an apartment with this particular front entryway layout!

NOPE.

They tried.  They tried very hard.  But the couch was not coming through the door unless we wanted to cut it in half.  So it spent an hour on the front lawn, awaiting its fate, while the rest of my boxes and furniture moved into their new home.  Alex and I debated what to do.  Was there another way into the apartment?  No.  Was there someplace we could send the couch until we lived somewhere it would fit?  Not that we could think of right away.  How would we replace the couch?  (This one is still being debated.)  In the end, the movers drove off, my first-ever grown-up piece of furniture loaded back on their truck, its fate uncertain.  I was crushed.

Luckily, the story has a somewhat-happy ending.  My father called the movers and asked them to bring the couch to his house, where it will reside in his game room until I can once again have it in my living room.

So if you come to visit me, I apologize in advance for the lack of a couch.

Galaxy Zoo

With everything going on this year, I have been pretty bad about star-gazing regularly.  Then the last time I went, I took pictures of Saturn that were so bad I am far too embarrassed to share them… but that’s a separate issue.  Imagine my excitement when I read about this:

GALAXY ZOO

I initially read about the project in Natural History magazine.

So cool!