Netflix dropped a bomb on me this week: To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. It’s a movie about a junior in High School whose secret love letters somehow get mailed to the five loves of her life. Teen melodrama ensues. And it’s fuckin’ magic.
This is the kind of movie that I would normally put on to lull me into a deep sleep. The mindless fluff that promises sweet dreams. Or so I thought.
Instead, I found myself giddy with all the feels. I was utterly invested in the leading lady’s journey. I was kicking my feet with excitement when she and her co-star finally express their feelings for each other. It didn’t hurt that John Corbett, or rather Aidan from Sex & the City was also in the film. Remember that episode when Carrie finds out he’s using Rogaine and he’s all “I don’t want to talk about!” Well, it worked. The man still has a damn good head of hair.
I used to think maybe I’d grow out of my appreciation of a teen rom-com, but now I know it’s here to stay. And I’m okay with it. Riverdale, Love Simon, The Duff – I eat it up. And I’m no stranger to rewatching the faves from my teen years either – Clueless, Mean Girls, 10 Things I Hate About You, 10 Things I Hate About You again because it’s so beyond brilliant. Unlike Zac Efron, I have no desire to be seventeen again, but fuck if I don’t love watching stories about that time in my life.
Maybe it’s time I write one myself…
If you were a song, you’d be Waiting on the World to Change by John Mayer.
Just like how the “1… 2… 1-2-3-4” at the beginning of the song gives the false illusion that the track was a live band recording, you gave the false illusion that you cared. Cared about me, cared about you, cared about us. Your dreams of being something greater were just that, dreams. Ideas, visions, and fantasies that never left your sleeping subconscious but instead left you feeling without. And so you waited. And you’re still waiting. Not just waiting on the world to change, but waiting for that someone who will inspire you to change. That someone wasn’t me. You’re a catchy pop hit that I can listen to on a long drive with the windows down, but that I never want to be face to face with again.
If you were a song, you’d be That Song by Big Wreck.
You’re a song about a song. You had all these ideas about what the perfect couple looked like. You spent countless hours focused on your social media presence but never enough focused on you. You posted photos of others and claimed they were you. You couldn’t be the best so you wrote a song about the best. That song. I loved that song. That is until I heard the original and realized that everything you had written was plagiarized. In the famous words of Tyler Durden, “a copy of a copy of a copy.” Which would be completely fine if you ever gave credit to those who came before you. But your ego wouldn’t allow it. You’re a rock anthem that I can listen to on repeat because it reminds me of a time when my life was a fucked up rollercoaster.
If you were a song, you’d be Uninvited by Alanis Morissette.
The opening piano sends shivers down my spine just like the first time our eyes met. It’s eerie and confusing and gives me a moment of pause. If it was at any earlier time in my life, I would have run away screaming but you were different. You made the idea okay. Is it exciting to watch the stoic squirm? Because you had me questioning aspects of myself that I thought I had all the answers to. The only unfortunate slight is that you had a girlfriend. You’re a strings heavy ballad that I’m excited to hear when it pops up on shuffle.