I don’t usually do this but on Thursday night at 10:47 PM, I was scrolling through movies on Netflix and your thumbnail caught my eye.
Unfortunately, I had already made plans with When They See Us that night, so I didn’t stop to read about you. I regret that terribly. You could have become my new favourite brunch topic after having shown me to a memorable night of passionate storytelling.
I tried to find you again at 3:30 AM, but you were nowhere to be found. Do you live in Comedy? Drama? I think you starred Diane Keaton, so I doubt that you are in Horror. That is unless Keaton becomes possessed by one of her oversized hats and brainwashes the studio audience of The Ellen DeGeneres Show.
The shoulder pads and corduroy trousers tell me that you are about thirty-five. You’re a little old for me, but I tend to find that movies my age overuse the passive aggressive phrase “whatever” and have controversial ideas about the uses for apple pie.
Now for a bit about me: I was wearing sweatpants and had chocolate on my fingertips. I was with my cat at the time. Did you hear him snoring? I’ve just got out of a long term relationship with Gone With The Wind, so I’m looking for something a little more casual and a little less racist. Ideally, we’ll just keep each other company for ninety minutes. I’m willing to stretch to two hours, but only if you can promise me a really satisfying ending.
Sure, I could watch a different movie. But I long for the moment when your opening credits roll and your voice-over tells me with far too much exposition that for some reason your handsome protagonist with kind eyes, a huge apartment and a good job, can’t find love. If at some point in the second act the seemingly happy couple covers each other in flour, I’ll be hopelessly devoted to you.
Look at me, I’m rambling now! You’re definitely not thinking about me, haha. I am probably just imagining the vibe that we had. But if I’m not, reply to this with what time I started crying into my wine, or meet me tomorrow night opposite the couch at 9:30 PM. I’ll be wearing the same thing as last time except with additional food stains.
P.S. Did you see where I dropped the Apple remote? The TV is still freeze-framed on Felicity Huffman’s guilty-ass face. Let me know.