He's Just Not That Into You

...is by far one of my favorite movies. Yes, it's a typical chick flick. It's also wonderfully and insanely easy to relate to, no matter where you are in your life because everyone has been through at least one of those situations at some point. 

I've lived my life believing that I'm the rule; that other girls get the man who does something extraordinary, shows up as a night in shining armor, and they ride off into the sunset on the beach while the snow gently falls and makes everything peaceful (I know, that would never really happen). That girl gets ecstatically every after, while my slow poke in tinfoil on a donkey is taking his sweet ass time (that's a joke, FYI. I have a shitload of awesome coming my way!).  

THEN, one day, a lightbulb that could probably illuminate the western seaboard turned on in my head: I don't have to be the rule because I'm SOMEBODY'S exception. That realization has proved to be probably one of the most substantial self-discoveries I've ever made. My whole life I've been the believer of an indescribable happily ever after for me. I've come to find out that it's there, it just doesn't look anything like I'd imagined it, and that's okay. 

I've also learned the waffle-spaghetti theory: men are waffles and women are spaghetti. Following me? The male brain has a generally more prominent ability to compartmentalize events and feelings and well, everything in their life. Not saying that female brains don't, it's just much more remarkable in men. Women, on the other hand, and you ALL know what I'm talking about, are like spaghetti. Three completely unrelated events could happen that have nothing to do with each other, but each event (spaghetti noodle) touches another, and sometimes gets in knots. Susie Q wakes up, spills her coffee, has to go to a meeting with people she doesn't agree with, and she's frustrated about getting into an argument with a family member two days ago, which then causes the printer to break and gas to be too expensive. Yeah, spaghetti. 

Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, Every story we're told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe... it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is... just... moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope.

Definitely the best part of the movie right there. It's all fairly accurate. I'm not sure that guys feel that way about things, but I'm sure there are many women out there who can relate! At least for me, hope keeps me alive.