Blue Valentine

Beautiful, funny, hits' the heart. Ryan starts singing with that beard and I physically can't handle it. But, part of me got extremely sad.

A bit because the ex boy looks a lot like Ryan's character in this film (and i am constnatly reminded of this via daily e-mails and photos... come on!) and it felt almost like a glimpse into the good and bad we shared, as well as the life we would have lived together (right decision made in the grand scheme).

And...a bit of sadness comes from a question asked in the film, "how do you know when you're in love? and how do you trust your feelings when they change so easily?"

I know love. Unconditional love. But never have I had the chance to share that with a man, and so the angry part of me questions why it's been nearly 29-years and nothing. Where the fuck are you?

The graceful, patient me has been through some interesting experiences in my twenties and I am confused, yet wiser for all of it. I'm told I am wonderful, funny, beautiful, smart. I'm finally starting to believe it. I am swooped up and held in high regard, and just as quickly as it's came, the man disappears into thin air.

This used to make me cry. This used to make me debate for days "Why this, why that, I don't understand." And why not? Girls are told from a young age that a man will just come along and save her. What about those of us that never needed to be saved? What about those of us who are independent and strong and good enough on our own? Why is that threatening? Why is that a red flag to run like a dog between the legs? Instead of questioning anymore, I let it go and chose to leave it alone, because a real man wouldn't have handled it that way. He would have had the courage to put on some damn sunglasses and stand in my light. Simple as that.

But the population of real men is waning. Every time I find a glimmer of hope, I'm always let down. You tell me how I don't swing to the side of "man-hater' when this happens over and over again. And how every time I even step into the realm of possibility of something great, I STEP into it, terrified that all the work i've done to become the fun, loving, wonderful me doesn't shatter in the process. But at least I have the courage. At least I'm not jaded and bitter and ugly. Men, I still love you, but I just can't give you the credit when accounting for bravery. All I need is just one good one... just one, to be courageous enough. Be honest enough. Be himself. I do it every day. Why is it so hard for man?