Why do I hate some movies? Because they make me think or get emotionally involved which usually appears as crying. Today it was, The Story of Us. OK, it’s Michelle Pfeiffer and Bruce Willis . . . neither of their characters’ has what I might call normal problems, like a lack of money, being overweight, drinking too much or a major character flaw such as the inability to grow up. Their problems are simply that they fell out of love with each other and lost their joy and can’t seem to breach the chasm. The movie ends with a somewhat believable happy ending. In my own case, there was no happy ending.
I found myself crying because I was feeling their pain. I could feel HIS pain worse that hers. What is that about? By all rights and purposes, I WAS Michelle Pfeiffer; I had to have things organized and perfect before I could let down my guard and relax and enjoy the life that I had helped create. Yet I identify with Bruce…how he feels by not having fun or joy in his life. Joy was found after my break-up and before I committed to another person . . . I have done a role reversal in my second marriage. I am the happy-go-lucky one, the free spirit, the goof. However, the memory of being the stable one, the rock, viewed as the mill stone around someone’s neck stays with me. Somehow, I think remembering being that other person allows me to never take Stewart for granted, or to be tempted to harangue him for wanting and liking his structure. I find him endearing. Perhaps all that I needed was a little perspective.
I found myself crying because I was feeling their pain. I could feel HIS pain worse that hers. What is that about? By all rights and purposes, I WAS Michelle Pfeiffer; I had to have things organized and perfect before I could let down my guard and relax and enjoy the life that I had helped create. Yet I identify with Bruce…how he feels by not having fun or joy in his life. Joy was found after my break-up and before I committed to another person . . . I have done a role reversal in my second marriage. I am the happy-go-lucky one, the free spirit, the goof. However, the memory of being the stable one, the rock, viewed as the mill stone around someone’s neck stays with me. Somehow, I think remembering being that other person allows me to never take Stewart for granted, or to be tempted to harangue him for wanting and liking his structure. I find him endearing. Perhaps all that I needed was a little perspective.
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Love it you goof!!
ReplyDeleteYou are truely lucky to have Stewart.
Guess I will need to watch that movie.