It’s been five years since I’ve watched Before Sunrise and Sunset (is there a way to italicize on the tumblr app?), and the time elapsed since then has worn on me about as much as the nine years for Jesse and Celine. All of a sudden, I realize this kindred frustration with Celine, maintaining this facade of grownup womanhood, that is until you’re tired and worn down and you lose your shit on someone in a van. You strive to embody the independence your parents worked so diligently to instill, but the weakness you cannot overcome is the need to feel loved consistently by a man.
You look back at your early twenties and realize how much your romanticism has died since then. I feel such validation when she talks about how she doesn’t understand how people move on so quickly from relationships and friendships, that she has a hard time separating from people even though every relationship she had known was doomed. She’s hindered by the fact that she values the small details in life, and her fascination in people causes her to become too attached. Then you end up extraordinarily guarded in letting yourself become involved because you know it hurts too much even to lose a bad relationship.
She’s cannot hide that she’s angry because she realizes she’s lost all her hope and romanticism. All of her exes are now married. They break up with her and propose to someone else and then thank her for teaching them something about love. “Why didn’t they ask me to marry them?! I would have said ‘No,’ but at least they could have asked!”
She’s struggling with the concept of “the love of your life,” concluding it’s ludicrous and blaming all the scar tissue from starting over so many times. “I guess I’ve been heartbroken too many times, and then I recovered.” From then on, there’s this fear that everything is doomed, and you may never know whether the best course of action was that guarded cynicism or maintaining a hope that may be nothing but childish.
I had this exact conversation with my mother the other day, and she sad it was sad I didn’t believe in “the one” anymore. She’s on her second marriage, both to men she loves tremendously and eternally, so I don’t understand her at all. She has 30 years on me, and I already feel too worn-down for “the one.” I just hope for “a one.”