It isn't so complicated

So last night I saw the movie “It’s Complicated” with Meryl Streep and Alec Baldwin. It’s a romantic comedy about a divorced couple of 10 years who end up having an affair after getting drunk the night before their son graduate’s from college. It’s a cute little romantic story of love, emotions, and conflicts and fucked up circumstances. One that I’m sure women of a certain age can really relate too, but this blog isn’t about this movie. This blog is about my relations with going to the movies.
For years, I’ve gone to movies alone with the excitement of finding something about myself from these fictional characters. My expectations where that I will somehow find what I was looking for after viewing one of these movies or at least get a better understanding of why I was alone and single. Going to the movies alone had become my treat to myself because in some odd way I enjoyed torturing myself by thinking about how lonely and sad my life was.
The long walk of solitude to the train station that followed each movie left me with plenty of time to self-loath and basks in the shadow of my loneliness. I purposely went to theater’s downtown so I would have to walk a long way to the train station because I secretly hoped I’d run into Mr. Right along my way. I secretly hoped he was lurking in the shadow’s, watching me, waiting until I was at my ultimate low so he could pop out just at the right time to answer all those crazy questions in my head and rescue me from this lonely life.

Every movie had an answer I thought.

But eventually that got old and I learned to drive, got a car and I strived for something better. My love life had become a movie I watched over and over too many time and frankly, I was no longer enjoying this show. Me, the leading lady, had gotten too pitiful for me to absorb anymore. However, I knew that someday things would change, I just didn’t know when. But I still had it all in my head on how it was supposed to happen.
“Walking along side the black Chicago River, I tuck my hands deep in my coat’s pockets to stay warm. It is very cold and icy. The chilly winter windy surrounded me like ants to cake crumbs on a summer’s day.
I walked alone. With nothing but my headphones, thoughts about my future, and scenes of my recently viewed movie danced around in my head. I walked alone in this city as an independent caterpillar waiting to bust out her of cocoon to be who she always was. And even thought this girl is strong, brave, beautiful and big, somewhere waiting for her was a hero. Her hero. My hero. Yes, he was there and any day now, he was going to reveal himself and finely take his prize. Because he, like me, deserves best and blah, blah, blah…”
Somewhere between drama and fact, I found reality and knew this just couldn’t continue on. It was time to change this twisted pattern of trying to find the perfect man and perfect life to finally be happy and just get happy. Enough with the sad little former film student who didn’t do what she went to college to do, but refuses to settle for the life she had.

So fast-forward to January 24, 2010. There I was in Madison, WI, at my favorite theater Sundance, enjoying a delicious creamy artichoke pizza and pumpkin spiced chai with rum. My recent visits there included either a best friend, or my boyfriend. So this night I was going to enjoy doing what I used to do for years. Watch a film in solitude and let my mind fill with questions about my loneliness.
As I sat alone in the theater, I was quite comfortable. I sent a few text messages out, took off my shoes and laughed loudly to parts of the movie I found funny. Then at some point during the viewing, I realized something was missing. This love story, as cute and charming as it was, didn’t hit me the same way. I didn’t envy the characters for what they had, instead I found it boring. I didn’t go “awwww” at the cutest stuff simply because it wasn’t cute anymore. As well written, acted and directed as this movie was, it didn’t do it for me anymore. No questions and no answers.
As I left the theater the only questions flooded my head was should I listen to the new John Mayer CD or Rihanna? Did my house catch fire because I left the pot cooker on for like 10 hours? Would my chicken be burned to crisp? Do I really want to eat anymore of the banana pudding I made? All these questions where new to me and a clear sign that I had grown up into adulthood without ever realizing the transition.
This year I will be 30 years old. Another clear sign that I am an adult (duh), and that I have evolved from a depressed, lonely, sad, loner in Chicago to a strong, confident, motivated woman. Sure, I’m not there fully there yet, but I’m miles away from who I was.
In a way, I kinda miss that lonely little girl walking home alone in Chicago. She was better than she thought she was, but not who she saw herself as. I’m still not as I see myself, but what I see is the opposite of her. I have accomplished many of those things I once dreamed about accomplishing. I’m in a relationship now and I’m planning to get married and have babies. I’m thinking about things I never thought I’d be thinking about because I never gave myself that credit. I’m glad I’m where I am today.