So I just watched ‘The Lucky One’ and only because my mom wanted it more than The Avengers (Don’t throw tomatoes at me). I had a serious headache afterwards, and my mom, my mom told me I was a man hater. Talk about hasty. I don’t know what you are all going to think of me after I say this, and frankly my dears I don’t give a damn, but I tend to stay away from Nicholas Sparks novels as much as possible. I’m not hating, he’s a great writer, I’ve read Dear John and The Last Song. But I found him too cliche when it came to relationships and destiny and serendipity. And maybe that’s partially why his books are so in-demand, hopeless-romantic people (not to mention Filipinos, pocket books anyone?) are engrossed with the idea that the perfect person will come at the perfect time and place. I get that, we all want that.
But then again, we don’t always get what we want, don’t we?
And sometimes it’s just sad that people, not to mention girls, have this great expectations on their perfect guys: TD&H, 3M, smart, funny, Tom Felton (Oh wait, that’s just me). Also that they’ll swoon you and sweep you off your feet and it will make your knees melt and undies fall down.
He/She will come, and chances are they’re already there, but know this: it won’t be based on Sparks’ or Austen’s or Precious Heart Moments’ authors. It can be chaotic, unexpected, and downright kuhraaazy. And it wouldn’t matter because when you find it, the main point is not to let it go. Which makes Sparks right that sometimes the most ordinary things can be made extraordinary, simply by doing them with the right people.
P.S. Zac Efron has the best bedroom eyes. Yum.
Airah Writes 