Pretty Woman

Over the Christmas break, I managed to get to Boston for one day and one day only, and had the great pleasure of spending an evening at my former residence on Hall Street. I was fortunate enough to have the extremely trippy experience of sleeping in my old room but in a different bed. Weird. Weird to hear the same old Tuesday morning trash-pick up sounds.

Anyway.

I hung out with A and J and it was lovely. Because I was both physically and emotionally drained, I requested that we stay in like the old days, order Chinese from Dragon Garden (scallion pancakes = divine), and drink wine. J suggested that we watch a movie. Luckily A is armed with an arsenal of girly movies such as Pretty Woman.

Now. I've seen Pretty Woman many, many times, but not recently. I know what happens. I know the plot. I know the ending. I know it's all happy and rosey and has Richard Gere climbing out the top of a limousine and conquering his fear of heights and commitment for Julia and her adorable smile. I know this.

Nevertheless, during this most recent viewing, I was very worried about Julia Roberts. I kept thinking "Don't go back to him! He is going to HURT YOU! He is vile because he is a man! He cannot be trusted! He is only using you! He is going to DEMOLISH YOUR HEART!"

Funny how age and baggage can jade you to the point of causing you to reexperience happy things in an unpleasant way. It sort of cracked me up, but also made me sad, because I can't believe how out of hand my skepticism has become.

"It must have been love, but its over noooowwwwww.... it must have been good, but I lost it somehowww.... "

Sigh.