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The Joy and Wonder of the Romantic Comedy
by Tim Josephs

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Who could've seen this coming?

Who could've seen this coming?
I love romantic comedies. Who doesn't, am I right? They're always so well-crafted and smart and never formulaic or clichιd at all. My wife Yarelie certainly likes them. Oh, before I forget, it's her birthday today. Happy Birthday, Sweetheart!

She and I, to be perfectly honest, actually didn't get along when we first met, we practically hated each other. I have to admit I was a bit cocky returning to my hometown after some minor success on the professional foosball circuit. She was working as a waitress in a diner, saving all her tips for her brother's much needed operation. That's where we met. To celebrate my utter humiliation of a local hot shot who had the nerve to challenge me to a game of foosball, my old high school buddies and I went to the diner. After Yarelie brought me the wrong side dish with my meatloaf and I joked about reporting her to the manager – my chums got a kick out of that – she "accidentally" dumped the whole plate into my lap. I left furious and when I nearly hit her on her lime green scooter – me in my pickup – heading
Where it all began

Where it all began
out of the parking lot, I was even madder. I found her hardheaded and infuriating, but also unexpectedly pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way. And although she wasn't at all like the girls I usually went out with, I couldn't get her out of my mind.

We met, coincidentally, again, at the park a couple days later. I don't know what I was doing there but the next thing I knew I was holding a picket sign and being chained to huge tree that was going to be torn down to make room for a Hooters. When I looked to my left, there she was. She seemed shocked to see me and when I said I was a big nature freak (stretching the truth just a little) and told her a joke about global warming, I got her to smile and could see how truly beautiful she was. After we were bailed out of jail, I asked her to dinner. She was a little resistant but finally agreed.

The date was disastrous (a wisecracking driver of a horse-drawn carriage and a senior citizen Mariachi band were involved), yet for some reason she wanted to see me again. I still remember what she said as I
My second greatest love

My second greatest love
walked her to her door: "If somebody went through all that trouble for me, he must be pretty special." Then she kissed me on the cheek. I danced back to my car as her stern father, who looked a little like Paul Sorvino, glared down from a second story window.

We continued to date, doing the town – zoo, ice cream parlor, go-carts – in almost a montage-like manner. I showed her the nuances of foosball; she taught me all about plants. One evening I was just walking around town, my head in the clouds, and when I looked up I was in front of my old Little League coach's house. Mr. Caruthers happened to be sitting on his front porch and he and I talked for a while. He could sense something was up with me – he always could – and I confessed I thought I was falling in love.

However, things went horribly wrong when Yarelie caught me in an awkward and unwanted embrace with Wanda, a slutty foosball groupie who had tracked me down. Yarelie stormed off, tossing away the 100 percent recycled glass necklace I had given her.

Well, of course I tried to
How I won her back

How I won her back
explain but she wouldn't listen to me. Her sassy friend Maggie told me Yarelie was going to Portugal to study rare plants and wouldn't be back for a year and that I should "take a hike, assball player." Needless to say I was crushed and if it weren't for my friends, Mr. Caruthers, and even Wanda who said "If you're gonna give up all that foosball poon, that girl must be something special," I never would have gotten into that hot air balloon to stop her from leaving. But I did and was able to stop the plane and explain everything, even admitting that I had lied about caring about nature, but now I did. And, in a sudden rain storm, I gave her back her necklace and we kissed as everyone – the hot air balloon operator, the bemused pilot, Maggie, Yarelie's still-stern-but-starting-to-warm-to-me father, her brother on crutches (just back from a successful surgery) – applauded. We were married a short time later and the rest, as they say, is history.

But wait, wasn't I supposed to be writing about the majesty of romantic comedies? Oh well, maybe next time.

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Movie Musings
Every other Tuesday

Thoughts, observations, conjectures, complaints about movies and mostly how they relate to me personally. If you're looking for something a little broader, try Ebert.

Other Columns
Other columns by Tim Josephs:

So Long 2013, and MatchFlickers!

The Season for Peace, Presents, & Puncture Wounds

Women are Once Again Kicking Ass

Chewing the Scenery

The Greatest President We Never Had

All Columns

Tim Josephs
Born to write (literally – much to the displeasure of his mother, he emerged with a pencil clutched in one tiny fist), Tim spends most of his days crafting epic monosyllabic poems, new comical titles to his favorite Beatles' songs (Hey, Dude), and angry letters to local businesses that have wronged him in some way. He's really an okay guy once you get to know him.

If you have a comment, question, or suggestion, you can send a message to Tim Josephs by clicking here.

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