“…on change de théâtre.”

- Ma tante Carmen

This month, Blork and Martine are asking us to confess to crying at the movies. Strange, for I recently cried all the way through one, and couldn’t decide whether to blog about it. I guess this request is a sign that I must.

Warning: blubbery girlie icky-girly personal yuckiness follows.

First, a bit of personal ancient history. Many years ago, I had a boyfriend and we were very happy. One day, he got accepted into a distant college to study in a demanding program for four years. We knew we were both the “out of sight, out of mind” type, and that this separation would eventually end our relationship. We knew we’d gradually forget each other, quite painlessly, over the next few years, and although we officially stayed together, we did indeed grow apart quite painlessly. The only great sadness we felt was when we knew we would forget, but not when we were busy forgetting.

Fast forward to now. For a while now, T has been talking about going to the West Coast to work for a year or so. And somewhere in the back of my mind, unspoken, I’ve had the same concern as I did all those years ago, the same lucidity about what happens over long distances.

So recently, we saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. And although I was enjoying the movie a lot, I bawled almost from the beginning, and at first I couldn’t figure out why.

But truth be told, as strange and uncommon as the main character’s situation was, I could actually relate to his circumstances. I knew how absolutely devastating it is to realize you will soon forget someone, and that someday, sooner than it should, love will be over and you won’t even mind.

On a lighter note, I should also confess I cried during Return of the King when Pippin is on Gandalf’s horse, being taken away from Merry, and I cry every single time they get the letters from home on Survivor.

But I definitely did NOT cry during Titanic! Come on!