I’m a strong believer that if you spend your whole life focused on how terrible your life was growing up, you turn out to be an adult in your 30s that never actually grew up. Most people blame their parents for what’s wrong with them- commitment issues, relationship issues, daddy issues, just fucking issues. It’s an expensive and pointless habit. I don’t blame my parents. That’s too obvious, mine are nuts. Divorce, affairs, illegitimate children- that’s fine, we all have that. (right?) I’m way more realistic; I blame people like John Hughes and Rob Reiner for what’s wrong with me. 16 Candles and When Harry Met Sally have done irreversible damage to my perception of reality. Love is only real if it’s impossible, ridiculous, and painful- because it all works out in the end. Deep inside my rational brain lives a crazy woman. This woman believes that somewhere in between Jake Ryan and Harry Burns will be her best friend, and after years of hilarious banter, hijinxxx and embarrassingly failed relationships they will find themselves at the end of a long beginning with each other… and live happily-ever-after.
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