Sorry, Jake

Because it was a record-breaking cold yesterday, I spent the entire day indoors watching movies with friends. As I threw DVDs into a plastic Target bag to bring over for our viewing party, I grabbed titles off of my shelf hastily. That's when I came across Sweet Home Alabama, 14-year-old Lauren's end-all, be-all favorite film. With those fond memories in mind, I grabbed the DVD and insisted we watch it. In my head, it was a kitschy, fun film about finding your roots in a small town. I knew it wasn't a masterpiece, but I remember loving it ever since I stumbled across it on HBO four years ago. However, upon a fresh viewing, turns out I was wrong. I wouldn't advise you to sit down and watch all 109 minutes of the film, unless you're prepared for a predictable Southern-style chick flick, so in its place, just watch the trailer.

If you just sat through those 2 minutes and 30 seconds, you're quite the trooper, and now you kind of get the gist of how honestly terrible this movie is. Not that it's not cute, but it certainly isn't the type of film the Academy pays attention to, y'know? Anyway, I realized this last night as I laid my wiser 18-year-old eyes on the screen and remembered something else: when it was my favorite, my freshman year of high school, I lent it to a guy I had a massive crush on. The poor boy! Initially the plan was for him to come over to my house so we could watch it together, but of course because I have anxiety about that type of stuff, I backed out at the last minute and just made him watch it in his spare time. And the worst part of it all? He pretended to like it. Apparently I was quite the hot ticket when I was 14, the kind of girl you sit through a dreadful rom-com for. If only I had that kind of allure now.

And while I did agree to watch The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift in return, (his favorite movie at the time, though I hope that's also changed, because it's not a very good one, either) I honestly feel bad I ever insisted a boy sit through that movie for me. As I watched it with my friends, half of me was laughing at the cheesy dialogue and predictable plot, while the other half was cringing for the boy I used to pine after. 

I distinctly remember him texting me as he watched--because he a true romantic so naturally texted me every day--applauding my great taste in film; I bought that shit up, feeling important and sophisticated for the rest of the night before I went to sleep at an unreasonable hour. The worst part is a few weeks later when he asked me out on our first official date, I said no because I was so nervous. After all that, I never even agreed to go out with him. Poor guy! I'm definitely not saying women should ever feel they owe any part of themselves to men in return for being treated nicely, but honestly that's not what was going on here; I liked him and wanted to go out with him, but chickened out. But hey, that's the Lauren Sauer way. Ride or die--but like ride with a seatbelt on going the appropriate speed limit because let's not get too reckless here.

So in conclusion, though he does not read this blog, I'd like to formally apologize to Jake, the aforementioned boy that had to sit through Sweet Home Alabama for me. I hope he isn't too scarred from Patrick Dempsey's questionable acting choices, and I hope he is successful in his future ventures. 


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