In 1998, Alfonso Cuarón delivered us a lovely, aesthetic and breathtaking loose adaptation from Charles Dickens' novel Great Expectations. [For the record, despite of its youth this film is already a classic for me; Gwyneth Paltrow is so subtle and sexy one can't help loving her.]
In 2006, after few days of [really] cheap philo/poetic flirt I got a date. Yeah, wow... a date!! This guy from internet wanted to meet me and I had nothing to do so here we go; he's not [my-type-of] hot but who knows if he's not a nice guy for a long term re... Meh, who am I trying to fool?
We all know I'm on the thing for the possibility of sex. The guy honestly seems okay: he's major in Literature and he definitelly likes what he's doing because his lines sounds like rip offs from mellow Álvares de Azevedo poems; but since I became a full time cynic I don't buy his crap. I confess that I have a bit of romanticism inside of me but it doesn't fall for Byron-esque conversation, especially when the guy fakes shock when I do a more explicit question.
Did you figure out the trick here? I am a guy who longers for romance, but somehow doesn't believe in romance anymore. Confessing that I am a bit out of my literary orbit and more into the filmography and soundtracks of my life, I think I'd be less bitchy if he came talking about the last movie he watched or his knowledge on pop culture. But still I'd be very suspicious of any gallantry towards me.
So today, when I caught myself listening to Besame Mucho repeatedly I realized I could be becoming Cuarón's Miss Havisham/Mrs Nora Dinsmoor! [Except for the being wealthy part.] But uhg, I'll soon become wrinkled and dried inside and will be leading young pupils to heartache; or spend my hours on internet downloading cover versions from Besame Mucho. Yeah, the latter is already happening...
[Song: Besame Mucho - Diana Krall]
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