When in RomCom…

So I almost had one of those perfect romantic-comedy meet-cutes this afternoon. I’m walking through the student union in my usual post-teaching daze, when a rather lovely young woman taps me on the shoulder and asks if I can help this man she thought she saw fall out of his wheelchair on the mall between the union and library. So we get to the door and see that no, he didn’t fall out of his chair, he’d climbed out; and he was currently engaged in diligently chalking notice of some political rally or other on the pavement. I complimented her on her thoughtfulness, though – and fortunately, “meet-cute” wasn’t what was on her mind, as I would have had zero clue what to say after that. (The scale of incapacitating attractiveness, incidentally, has several degrees. Causing the tongue to turn into a useless, flopping beast rather like a disabled (if marginally less enormous) sea elephant is one; slightly below that is finding that gravity has gone rogue and affects random nearby objects up to and including one’s own self; very near the top of the scale is when you are compelled to whimper like a pup. Anyway.)

Then again, I’m disqualified for romantic-comedy meet-cutes on the grounds that I’m happily married. Now if I’d been a career-obsessed young attorney in a loveless marriage to a lumpish harridan with a QVC addiction and then met a sassy young African-American paralegal working for the public defender’s office; or a schlumpy middle-aged idealist puttering away on a novel in a dingy room, who suddenly meets an idealistic young philanthropist possessed of an insouciant joie de vivre and who just happens to realize I’m the next John Grisham; or a troubled but concerned cop with a sketchy past and a drinking problem whose naive but goodhearted young partner sets me up on a blind date with his lovely social-worker neighbor, maybe that would have worked.

(ps: I apologize for the absolutely appalling pun that titles this entry. I know it displays a lot of gall, but the parties responsible have been sacked.)

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6 Comments

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6 responses to “When in RomCom…

  1. flasshe

    Feel free to send your meet-cutes out this way, mr. happily-married. Thx.

    nxqixnp! nxqixnp!

  2. 2fs

    That would entail some sort of airline-related ticketing mishap in which the woman ends up in Colorado instead of Milwaukee and meets a charming and handsome engineer who was waiting at the airport for his brother’s annoying girlfriend, who just happens to have the same name as the young woman. But I’ll see what I can do. Alternately, send me a recent photo: I’ll make up a t-shirt with your image on it, add your phone number and e-mail address, and the phrase “YOU LIKE?” in large print beneath. Then I’ll wander around in public wearing it. That should do the trick also. $200/hr. (Okay, I’m going to assume it’s “lxgaa” – but only because I know they use only lowercase letters. But otherwise, I might guess “1xgaa” or even “Ixgaa.” Bastards!)

  3. flasshe

    Hmmm, maybe it would be easier if I rented an apartment that belonged to a recently deceased workaholic but attractive female doctor who then haunts me and I bring back to life by the power of my love.

    zqchlr! zqchlr!

  4. yellojkt

    After the “mmet cute scene” you have to come up with the “keep them apart” plot device. In this taboo-less age, that is a lot harder than it was in Jane Austen’s time. It usually requires a gross misunderstanding on someone’s part that is easily reconcilable once it is cleared up.

  5. flasshe

    The “keep them apart” device has to be some secret that would be no big deal if Party A told Party B about it right at the beginning, but which is a potential relationship-killer if Party A waits too long and/or Party B finds out about it through Party C instead of Party A.

    ulgsl! ulgsl!

  6. 2fs

    Such as: “Okay, yes, I did torture your husband, and then basically killed him by forcing the doctor, at gunpoint, to work on someone else. But I had to do it – you’ve gotta trust me on this!” Teehw!

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