I love this movie. I don’t like watching movies over and over or even rereading books— I like surprises and the thrill that accompanies the unknown. For some reason, though, I can watch this movie over and over and over.
It’s no cinematic masterpiece. It’s actually a rather simple, stereotypical chick flick; it follows the recipe for romance and there aren’t any unexpected curveballs or twists and turns. It’s not particularly intellectual (read: not at all intellectual) or inspirational. But this line gets me every time.
Maybe it’s because this picture of love is honest. It’s messy; it’s awkward and uncomfortable and unpredictable. But in the end, it’s also sweet and sincere. It’s determined and insistent and stubborn.
I hope I love like that.