I'm learning now the repercussions of my actions...
Harry Burns: You realize of course that we could never be friends.
Sally Albright: Why not?
Harry Burns: What I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally Albright: That's not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry Burns: No you don't.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: No you don't.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: You only think you do.
Sally Albright: You say I'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry Burns: No, what I'm saying is they all WANT to have sex with you.
Sally Albright: They do not.
Harry Burns: Do too.
Sally Albright: They do not.
Harry Burns: Do too.
Sally Albright: How do you know?
Harry Burns: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally Albright: So, you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry Burns: No. You pretty much want to nail 'em too.
Sally Albright: What if THEY don't want to have sex with YOU?
Harry Burns: Doesn't matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.
Sally Albright: Well, I guess we're not going to be friends then.
Harry Burns: I guess not.
Sally Albright: That's too bad. You were the only person I knew in New York.
Why is it that when I watch when Harry Met Sally, it becomes glaringly clear how much I'm missing in my life? What I've had. What I've lost. Because "just a few drinks" can ruin a good thing. Because that "good thing" probably never existed in the first place.
I'm becoming increasingly aware of this, and part of me wants to run down Cass ave. screaming a big Fuck you to everything and everyone who I have never told how I really feel about things. The other part is feeling like Meg Ryan as Sally waiting for her Harry Burns to find her on New Years Eve and tell her how he loves her eccentricities and quirks and everything about her.
I want to experience that cinematic romance where everything is a sequence of moments that leave you breathless. I want to fall in love like that. To be taken aback everytime that person smiles or laughs or walks through a door. The problem however is that however wonderful that sounds it's existence is like that of the unicorn, it is doubtful whether it could ever exist at all. I don't trust people enough to get close to me and yet I long for that closeness, that is the great irony. And to make up for my poor child hood or whatever excuse you want to insert her, I turn to the random and seemingly meaningless hook-up. Except of course for the fact that I am a girl (believe it or not) and hook-up's no matter how much we profess them not too actualy do mean something in the end. And so thus something pristine and wonderful is ruined. And what is left? Shame. Guilt. Another notch in the bed-post. What are those worth? Nothing.
I am left with an empty box of kleenex, a half eaten bag of chocolate, a bowl of popcorn and me, all by myself watching the credits roll by.
Sally Albright: Why not?
Harry Burns: What I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally Albright: That's not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry Burns: No you don't.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: No you don't.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: You only think you do.
Sally Albright: You say I'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry Burns: No, what I'm saying is they all WANT to have sex with you.
Sally Albright: They do not.
Harry Burns: Do too.
Sally Albright: They do not.
Harry Burns: Do too.
Sally Albright: How do you know?
Harry Burns: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally Albright: So, you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry Burns: No. You pretty much want to nail 'em too.
Sally Albright: What if THEY don't want to have sex with YOU?
Harry Burns: Doesn't matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.
Sally Albright: Well, I guess we're not going to be friends then.
Harry Burns: I guess not.
Sally Albright: That's too bad. You were the only person I knew in New York.
Why is it that when I watch when Harry Met Sally, it becomes glaringly clear how much I'm missing in my life? What I've had. What I've lost. Because "just a few drinks" can ruin a good thing. Because that "good thing" probably never existed in the first place.
I'm becoming increasingly aware of this, and part of me wants to run down Cass ave. screaming a big Fuck you to everything and everyone who I have never told how I really feel about things. The other part is feeling like Meg Ryan as Sally waiting for her Harry Burns to find her on New Years Eve and tell her how he loves her eccentricities and quirks and everything about her.
I want to experience that cinematic romance where everything is a sequence of moments that leave you breathless. I want to fall in love like that. To be taken aback everytime that person smiles or laughs or walks through a door. The problem however is that however wonderful that sounds it's existence is like that of the unicorn, it is doubtful whether it could ever exist at all. I don't trust people enough to get close to me and yet I long for that closeness, that is the great irony. And to make up for my poor child hood or whatever excuse you want to insert her, I turn to the random and seemingly meaningless hook-up. Except of course for the fact that I am a girl (believe it or not) and hook-up's no matter how much we profess them not too actualy do mean something in the end. And so thus something pristine and wonderful is ruined. And what is left? Shame. Guilt. Another notch in the bed-post. What are those worth? Nothing.
I am left with an empty box of kleenex, a half eaten bag of chocolate, a bowl of popcorn and me, all by myself watching the credits roll by.