Rom-Com

Several years ago, I decided to move to New York for the summer. I've been GROSSLY directionally impaired my entire life and felt that the best way to defeat my fear of maps was to move to the most congested, urban place I could think of and force myself to navigate daily.

This mostly worked, I only ended up out in Queens once. I had reconnected with Nick, who invited me to dinner in Bryant Park, and I took the subway the opposite direction by accident. Then I got really nervous, so I stopped and bought airplane tequila at a bodega, to calm my nerves. I called Stella as I was footing my way back uptown.

"Jesus, T. You're like a $#$%@#%^ heroine in a romantic comedy."

That statement stuck with me... As I attended mass in Brooklyn with my great-aunt and millions of 90-year-olds who only spoke Italian, I thought, "I am living in a romantic comedy."

Then as my great-aunt insulted a Jersey tramp who tried to throw down with her on the steps of Saints Peter & Paul, I thought, "I am living in a romantic comedy."

As I discovered that my aunt had adopted 14 cats in my absence and was regularly feeding them roast chickens, I thought, "I am living in a romantic comedy."

I continue to think this way, even now. When I go on dates where the guy starts crying and asks for a hug, I think "I am living in a romantic comedy."

Or when I buy a house with no hot water and discover that I have to shower at my new neighbor's, I think, "I am living in a romantic comedy."

And rom-coms revolve around break-ups and make-ups. The good thing about breakups these days is that, after I turned 30, I noticed I started getting over minor relationships in like a week, solid. It goes like this:

Day 1: hate life, want to die, cry eyes out

Day 2: don't want to get out of bed, feel despair

Day 3: get out of bed, stare at mirror forlornly, try to smile

Day 4: get out of bed again, go out with girlfriend, drink wine

Day 5: hmmmm, it's okay, it's actually for the best probably, put on lipstick

Day 6: I'm marginally okay, I think

Day 7: wait, why was I going out with that guy, again???

I'm not even kidding. If you'd told me when I was 25 that I would one day get over guys in a week, I would have scoffed. Yet here I am.

And thank God, because what came next was so mind-boggling.

A few weeks ago, a guy I'd very recently been dumped by sent me an ad for a matchmaking service that he thought I might find helpful. I was dumbfounded. I stared at it. Was it like...a joke? But then he followed it up with a note about how he hopes I can one day find happiness again (not realizing that a week had already passed, so...)

Stratski and I started laughing our asses off.

It was at this point that I realized, YES. I am living in a romantic comedy.

At first we didn't know if that level of douche-baggery existed outside of rom-coms. But then we realized the heroine only gets patronized right before the good guy comes along. Like how that Irish policeman in Bridesmaids came along for Kristin Wiig right after that rich douchebag playboy dumped her!

So I'll just be right over here. Running red lights.