I wish to meet you. But we both know that's not going to happen.
Why? Because we aren't in the movies. In the movies, I, the unpolished underdog, would dream of getting you, the gorgeous, outgoing prom queen who happens to be dating a guy named Ross or Chet, the captain of the team and the bane of my existence.
As time passes, I begin to show you that I can be more than a friend; that a quiet, geeky type can be compatible with the most popular girl in school.
Then, when I gather a band of misfits to take on the varsity team (in which Ross or Chet is the captain and the whole school attends) I miraculously score the winning basket/touchdown/goal in the last 3 seconds of the game.
As the school rushes the floor, I am hoisted up on the student body's shoulders, anointing me as the hero. I ask to be let down so that I can find you. You, conveniently on the other side of the gym, weave through the crowd with the utmost grace, passing a dejected Ross or Chet and come straight into my arms.
I give a pointed question like, "So, do you think this will work?" You give me an indirect, whitty answer, like, "I guess, just as long as you don't try to make spaghetti," referring to an embarrassing moment in the first half hour of the movie before my transformation from zero to hero.
Then, we kiss. It is simple and comfortable and is as if we have done it a thousand times, letting the audience know that this relationship can and will work until the end of time.
But, again, that will never happen.
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The Smart Money, On Liberty, Iceman, The Last Victim