Rarely do I say that a movie is terrible. I know a lot of people who go to the theater to bemoan the predictable plot or excessive explosions or the fact that no woman in the world has only one friend, who, incidentally, is always available day or night to sip lattes and talk about the main actresses problems but never her own. I do not complain about these things because I respect and admire Judy Greer’s career and because I love to lose myself in a story, especially a Romantic Comedy.
Here on Earth is a terrible movie, which I can objectively acknowledge but I will also tell you I was covered in tears when I saw it in theatres. I own Maid of Honor and What Happens in Vegas. I can’t hear a word against Katherine Heigl. Do not test me on this. Any time I feel overly hydrated, I watch A Walk to Remember and my problem is instantly remedied.
My willingness to suspend all disbelief and cynicism for romance has a treacherous bi-product: I see romantic comedies everywhere. Obviously, my imagined love life is full of meet-cutes and hot but non-threatening James Marsden types being unexpectedly touched by my klutziness from afar. But sometimes, I get to play Judy Greer/Melissa McCarthy/Thomas Lennon, which is just as good.
There are two people in my office who are in love. They are both tall. They are both young (in college/just out of college!). They both eat berries in the morning. They both like to eat sandwiches at lunch, sometimes. They don’t really interact, except to exchange pleasantries. They both wear work slacks. Love.
Though I have never seen any evidence of this, I’m pretty sure it’s not just in my imagination. Tall. Young! BERRIES. I have a plan to get them to be in love officially. It mostly consists of IMing another co-worker back and forth about ways they have proved their love, such as, “He’s reading something, she’s reading something. Romance.” And, “They will date-even if it’s only in my mind.” Were this an actual Romantic Comedy, some plucky, busybody co-worker, in a fit of dramatic irony, just wouldn’t let go of how cute the male and female ingénues would be together, which I am on board for. She would also get coffee with at least one of them, which I am probably not going to do, as I prefer to busybody from afar.
Either way, my spidey sense is telling me that love is in the air. With each passing time that they kind of acknowledge each other with a head tilt or a polite but emotionless, “Excuse me”, I become a little more certain.