One Friday night, I could've done anything, but I chose—instead of baking or sewing or reading or making anything more complicated than a grilled cheese for dinner—I chose to watch a movie I knew would simultaneously comfort and hurt me.
27 Dresses. The first time I saw it, I was with a good friend at this old movie theater in my town, the kind with just a few screens and where the ticket and the popcorn are the same price: cheap.
The movie made us both giddy when we saw it in the theater. Pretty dresses! Living in NYC! Adorable apartment!
For girls who live in the suburbs but feel that deep down inside we're urban chic, 27 Dresses made us forget that just outside the movie theater were SUVs packed with soccer cleats, hockey sticks, trombones, and all the other paraphernalia that comes with having 2.5 children in suburbia.
But the movie also made us upset that the straight-laced girl has to get drunk in order to finally become crooked-laced {or whatever the opposite of straight-laced is}.
They always do that in movies, you know. There's always the girl who's too attached to her planner and her immaculate order, and there's always the moment she finally lets her guard down and allows Prince Charmant in. That moment always involves alcohol.
Always.
Ok, maybe it's just always in romantic comedies. I'll try to be more accurate with my blanket statements, but I’ll back up my blanket with examples.
27 Dresses
Guys and Dolls
10 Things I Hate about You
Never Been Kissed {technically, this one involves marijuana, not drinking}
As a tiny side note—hence the tiny font size—I realize that my theory doesn’t exactly hold up. I can disprove myself simply by saying Meg Ryan. And I bet there are plenty of other ways to disprove me, so why don’t we move beyond this side note and return to that Friday night when I changed into my flannel pajamas at 7:30. Yeah, let’s focus on how cool/social I am.
That Friday night when I watched 27 Dresses alone, it comforted me because it's a love story. It's someone I don't know, and they're having adorable moments in beautiful clothes. I don't have to deal with jealousy when it's Katherine Heigl.
But the movie hurts because of course it's just a movie and it must end well. {Unless it's a French movie.}
The girl may be single and denying it hurts in the opening scene {generally takes place at a publishing house in New York}, but by that last scene, she's kissing someone perfect for her.
Someone who gets her.
Someone who cares more about her than he does about himself.
And in between those scenes, she gets drunk and the story turns.
After watching movies like 27 Dresses, I don’t start plotting how to create this shiny, perfect hair, perfect vintage apartment, white teeth world.
It’s not even that I want that life to replace my life.
My life is shiny, too, and while I may not have perfect hair, I have some charming vintage furniture, a closet full of sassy skirts, and very healthy teeth {never a cavity!}.
Movies like 27 Dresses do make me wistful, though.
And then I roll my eyes at myself {a tricky thing to do—try it} because I don’t like this pining after a life that isn’t real. I don’t like that part of me, even the smallest part, finds comfort in these movies.
I seriously get hopeful when I notice similarities between fictional characters and me.
I have an over-stuffed planner!
I do crazy things such as scrub the stove when I can’t sleep!
I like to cook when I’m angry!
I…well, I don’t actually live in New York, but I like the idea of living in NYC, and I’m sure if I were there, I’d live in a brownstone on the Upper West Side!
I don’t want to admit this, but I must: movies like 27 Dresses give me hope that I won’t be alone for ever. If the crazy, planner-obsessed girl on the big screen can find the right man, then maybe this planner-obsessed girl will eventually have a wedding date to put in that planner.
I know it’s silly to take hope from Hollywood. I know my hope rests in God alone and that he has a much bigger plan{ner} than mine. I know that I should hold all my dreams loosely as I lift my hands to God.
But that’s the practical side of me. For the emotional side of me, I sometimes need a Friday night alone, an unexpected one, where I take a little eye-candy comfort from 27 Dresses.
As a tiny side note—hence the tiny font size—I realize that my theory doesn’t exactly hold up. I can disprove myself simply by saying Meg Ryan. And I bet there are plenty of other ways to disprove me, so why don’t we move beyond this side note and return to that Friday night when I changed into my flannel pajamas at 7:30. Yeah, let’s focus on how cool/social I am.
That Friday night when I watched 27 Dresses alone, it comforted me because it's a love story. It's someone I don't know, and they're having adorable moments in beautiful clothes. I don't have to deal with jealousy when it's Katherine Heigl.
But the movie hurts because of course it's just a movie and it must end well. {Unless it's a French movie.}
The girl may be single and denying it hurts in the opening scene {generally takes place at a publishing house in New York}, but by that last scene, she's kissing someone perfect for her.
Someone who gets her.
Someone who cares more about her than he does about himself.
And in between those scenes, she gets drunk and the story turns.
After watching movies like 27 Dresses, I don’t start plotting how to create this shiny, perfect hair, perfect vintage apartment, white teeth world.
It’s not even that I want that life to replace my life.
My life is shiny, too, and while I may not have perfect hair, I have some charming vintage furniture, a closet full of sassy skirts, and very healthy teeth {never a cavity!}.
Movies like 27 Dresses do make me wistful, though.
And then I roll my eyes at myself {a tricky thing to do—try it} because I don’t like this pining after a life that isn’t real. I don’t like that part of me, even the smallest part, finds comfort in these movies.
I seriously get hopeful when I notice similarities between fictional characters and me.
I have an over-stuffed planner!
I do crazy things such as scrub the stove when I can’t sleep!
I like to cook when I’m angry!
I…well, I don’t actually live in New York, but I like the idea of living in NYC, and I’m sure if I were there, I’d live in a brownstone on the Upper West Side!
I don’t want to admit this, but I must: movies like 27 Dresses give me hope that I won’t be alone for ever. If the crazy, planner-obsessed girl on the big screen can find the right man, then maybe this planner-obsessed girl will eventually have a wedding date to put in that planner.
I know it’s silly to take hope from Hollywood. I know my hope rests in God alone and that he has a much bigger plan{ner} than mine. I know that I should hold all my dreams loosely as I lift my hands to God.
But that’s the practical side of me. For the emotional side of me, I sometimes need a Friday night alone, an unexpected one, where I take a little eye-candy comfort from 27 Dresses.
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