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Seems like once a month is as frequent as I can post these bitches. But after some thought, I don’t think you really need my dbag wisdom more frequently, do you? Yeah. I agree.

So I’ve been in love with the movie About Time lately (go ahead and check it, it’s on HBO Go right now). I’ve been watching almost daily and my obsession has birthed a sudden taste for gingers [well, let’s be honest, it was this movie in conjunction with James McCarthy, the dreamy midfielder for Everton.] So today, after my 10th time watching the movie, I realized that I love it so much because the people in it aren’t meant to be gorgeous. They even make Rachel McAdams look kind of unattractive (as if that’s possible). It’s like proof that we, the awkward, chubby, shitty haired people of the world are allowed to fall in movie love too! It made me think: have I had movie-love times and not realized it? Of course I fucking have, and I’ll tell you one of the tales below.

One Valentine’s Day, after being dumped 5 months prior, I left a shitty day at shitty work and decided to get some shitty wine and paint a shitty picture. I was by myself as my roommate (and one true hetero life mate) was out with her boyfriend. Of course, I changed into pjs as soon as I got home (ain’t nobody got time for real pants) and rushed to the liquor store to get my dinner for the evening. I’d picked out my usual Yellowtail Shiraz (the big bottle) and ran for my building elevator as the doors began to close. Luckily, one of the two guys in the elevator held the doors for me and I joined them for the 4 floor ride to my apartment. Like any other pajama’d person in the presence of two cute dudes would do, I avoided eye contact and stared at my phone.
After floor 1, one of the dudes started asking me about my wine. It was a conversation that led to the inevitable “what are you doing on this Valentine’s evening?”
[fucking hate that question because it 1. assumes you want to be doing something on Vday and 2. makes them give you an awkward sad look when you tell them you’re not doing anything. Like who cares.]
Of course, I told him how excited I was for my wine and painting and he said “well, hey, I like art. Can we hang out sometime?” So, like any smart, independent woman, I said “sure. Apartment 405 if you want to stop by”. Sure enough, after a few hours of painting and a half bottle of wine, I get a knock on the door. Brandon [was his name] came into my apartment with his gorgeous smile and ridiculously warm and badass personality. We sat for a few more hours talking about whether we believe in fate (he’d been in a bad motorcycle accident and believed he would have died if not for fate), and love, and art.
He left my apartment after we promised each other that we’d start writing letters back and forth.

….movie. status. But here’s where real life came in: I got awkward because I’ve got commitment issues and came up with excuses to not hang out with him after that. We never got together, but we do still talk every once and a while. It’s been 3 or 4 years since that crazy Valentine’s evening. And proof that movie-type situations can happen to chubby, bi, stretch-marked, NORMAL people. [okay I know, you’re right, what is normal? We’re all normal. Even pretty people.]

So there you have it, my little lemon drops. Maybe the lesson is that it’s okay to hope for that movie magic, just remember that life is fluid and there are no credits. Movies are just a portrayal of one chunk of our lives.

Don’t lose that hope…
for anything (not just love),