Romantic Comedy

Though my life has its comic strains, it is not a romantic comedy. Maybe I'm in a funk, I did see Brokeback Mountain and some weird porn-based (the main character was a porn star trying to get out of the business...the subject wasn't so much porn) movie Scott gave me this weekend. The sum total feeling from seeing these two movies within two days of each other is complete distrust of hetero relationships and dispair over homo ones. So either you're going to be cheated on if you're a girl with a guy, or if you're a guy who loves another guy, you're never going to be able to be with him and love him like you want. Real-life proves this wrong, but I choose to base my feelings and emotions on the movies I see, rather then the lives going on around me. When my imagination is added to the mix, I can't imagine every again compromising for another person. No matter how hard I try, my imagination can't bend around the idea that I might be in a significant, committed relationship ever again. However, this is what I do have:

There was a guy at the Mill reading a book of Sylvia Plath's journals. He went outside and when he came back in the white woman with the black baby was saying to the baby, "Use your indoor voice, not your emergency voice." The guy and I made eye contact while I was laughing quietly over the possibilty of me using my emergency voice indoors. Now I see this guy all the time around downtown and everytime I see him I want to say (in my emergency voice) "Indoor voice. INDOOR VOICE!"