Letters to Juliet review & some of my what ifs.

Watching Letters to Juliet was a beautiful experience. I got just what I wanted: beautiful Italian scenery (gosh, I just love that color palette!) and beautiful, well done story. I really could feel the love. So much so, that my little lonesome heart broke a bit in many parts of the movie. It even broke a little for Victor. Of course I’d be a fool to ignore the fact that he basically experienced what I’ve experienced twice now: to be left because the partner found someone new. May it be a crush or true love, all the same. Nobody should experience that. Not even a self-centered dick like Victor. I wish that people would just rip the scales off their eyes and see the reality: a bad, unhappy relationship BEFORE having feelings for someone else highlights it all. There’s always someone who hurts. If you have doubts about it being real love or of its lasting, it’s probably not. If you have to ask… You know how this sentence goes.

Of course, if we forget all about Victor; Sophie and Charlie’s love story competes well with Clare and Lorenzo’s. Two beautifully written love stories all bundled up in one. Really a treat for all friends of romance movies! I won’t say more of the plotline. That Victor-bit aside, I haven’t spoiled much yet, and it’s clear from the start, that the poor sucker has it coming for him. I’ll just leave you with the words: you won’t regret seeing this movie. Even if you’re not a big fan of any of the actors, you’ll enjoy their work here. Five stars and a piece of pie!

Now a more personal bit. I’m such a sob! I cried in many parts, but when the movie ended; I was a pathetic cliché: a 29 year old single woman crying for her own loneliness and the certainty that I’ll never find real love. Oh, I’ve lived and loved many times in my life; I’ve got three kids to prove it. But I never got that feeling. You know the one. The “I just KNOW this will last forever” feeling. The feeling of giving all of your heart to someone. I always hanged on to it, in fear that it would get ripped apart and spit upon. It did so anyway, a couple of times. Even if the love was never the kind that filled up my whole heart. I only get that when I think of my children. Their father; not so much. I could never trust him with my heart, I see it now. I was always scared he’d do it again. Call me Victor. I fill my days with projects and experiences so I won’t have to see the problems. Make myself believe that it’s the real thing even if I know it isn’t. Sticking to it. Until it’s too late and I get broken.

The best thing about romance movies and books is, that even if they make me break out into a waterfall sometimes; they never fail to restore my trust in true love. Yeah, yeah. Tell me “it’s just a movie/book! It doesn’t happen in real life!” and I might even agree with you for a while. But there’s always a little bit inside me that KNOWS that it is true. It is out there, somewhere. I just haven’t found it. I don’t believe in “the one” but I do believe in true love. Sometimes I think that I’ll never get it, the real deal. But the wish must be kept alive. It will keep me from turning into a sour old bitch with an attitude problem.

That is what dawned on me while the big chunky tears fell down my cheeks and into my ears. I used to cry for the same reasons during and after almost every romantic movie I ever saw, even during the sad excuse of a relationship that I had with my ex. I knew it wasn’t right. I knew it was bad for me, really. I always wondered, after a good movie: Will I ever have the strength to face fact and stop making excuses for why I should stay. I always wondered if I’d missed my chance on the real deal while cowering in a bad relationship that never really worked. Sophie wrote about “what ifs” in her letter to Clare. Here are my what ifs. What if it was that guy Sami that I met while walking home may 1st 2009? There was an instant click there. I felt like he belonged in my life. Which was insane. We were just two drunken people talking about a lot of stuff while walking home to the same way for thirty minutes or so. Just trying to keep each other from falling down or to the river next to the esplanade. I talked about my relationship a bit and other things. He talked about some of his problems. When it was time to part, he pointed to an apartment building and said “That’s my place”. I asked if I should come and walk him in. Honestly, I wasn’t thinking of hooking up. I never was one for cheating. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t fall on the stairs because he was really wasted. He said “No. You’re happy where you are.” It kinda startled me. The whole way home I was thinking “Am I, really?” as if it was a new thought. In truth, I had been wondering for a long while at that point. Years even. But something about that moment made it all so more clear to me. I was supposed to go to his workplace sometime to talk with him, to become friends. But I was a coward again. I feared that the good chemistry between us might lead to something. Cheating. I didn’t want that. So no, I didn’t go. What if I had? Would we be friends? What if horrible things happened to him because I was so chicken? He had his problems. He’d be 26 now if he is still alive. What if I try to look for him now? Would I seem desperate? Foolish? What if I called the guy that used to own the gas station that he worked at? Would the guy remember his whole name? I only know him as Sami. I’ve even forgotten much of his looks. Only his blue eyes haunt me when I think of people I should have known better.

Another what if-guy: Pete. I met him some days before may 25th 2000, or was it the 25th? I can’t remember quite so well. I had been single for a month; 18 years young and a little bit to the wild side at that very moment. A few weeks before I had accidentally played Amor for two people in my life: my best friend S and my ex-boyfriend’s cousin J. They were totally in love. We were walking together to J’s friend’s place to celebrate something. I was blabbering on something crazy about how horny I was and wanted to dance. J said laughing “I never heard this girl talk so much in all the 9 months she was with my cousin”. Yeah. Well, that should tell you that even the shyest girl talks a lot when she’s with her best friend. I didn’t even shut up at J’s friend’s place. There were us four then. While J and S were in the sauna, I was left alone with Pete in the living room. We started talking and getting drunk. He talked a lot about how his girlfriend had cheated on him and I understood that they had broken up. So when the night rolled on, we talked some more and while we were at a nightclub there was some kissing and grinding involved. And later activities when we went back to his place for the night. Eh. Go ahead, call me a slut. I felt a deeper connection with him that anyone so far. To be honest, he was only my third guy. But even ever since, he’s always stood out as the guy that I had weird chemistry with. Like we belonged or something. But Destiny was never rooting for us. We slept together that night, spent some of the following day together and were set to have a date that night. But our paths didn’t cross that night. There were too many people where we were supposed to meet. We somehow missed each other. I didn’t have his number to call. I only knew his name. Few days later I heard from a girl I knew, that her friend was looking for me with a vengeance because I had stolen her boyfriend. He had actually left her because of me. It shocked me. Even then, ALWAYS, I never wanted anything to do with cheating and cheaters. So I didn’t ask about him from J anymore. I told J to tell him I wasn’t interested. A year later I accidentally met him at the bus station of my town. Sometimes young people gathered there on Friday nights. There it was again: the click. The instant chemistry. We talked a bit. But Destiny was against it again. I was taken while I was at that bus station. I was engaged and pregnant for the first time, for my ex J. And I still wanted nothing to do with cheating, so I kept it innocent. Just a bunch of what ifs running in my mind. The fact that first time… Hell! The first years that I saw J naked, the thought “he looks so much like Pete” crossed my mind, was disturbing me. Same body build, even some of the facial features. Creepy, really. I met him once more in my old home town a year later. I was visiting mom with my daughter. I was single. I had a night out and met him in a bar. We talked again. The spark was there. Aaaaand he was taken. He was with the same girl that he had been with when we first met. We changed numbers. There was some texting the following couple of years. Totally as friends, but there was some flirting sometimes. Still kinda innocent. He lived 50km from me but we never dared meet. I made a friend online, a university teacher who did tarot. He read to me once about Pete and me, and said so many things that made sense. Unfinished things, bigger destiny. Then, we were both single, and talked of meeting, but he dropped the ball there. Never really was ready to set the time and place. So I let him slip away. Years later I looked him up in Facebook. He still lived in the next town and had a wife and kids. Looked totally different but it was the same guy. And for all those 11 years I had the same what if: What if we really were meant to be back in 2000? I could have totally averted the train wreck that was my ex J. But I wouldn’t have my kids. So meh.

IF it’s meant to be, it will be at some point. Maybe there will be third what if-guy. Or what if there’s one that won’t slip away? A girl can dream.

If you read all the way through my rambles, I wouldn’t mind a comment or two. Tell me: Do you have What ifs? What are yours? I’d bet there would be a few interesting story in everyone’s history.

Love, Cappu