screw romcoms

I am generally not a fan of romcoms. screw Kate Hudson and Matthew Mcounaghy. Screw repetitive plot lines and cliche kisses and ‘aww happy endings, puppies and unicorns yay!’ Screw romcoms.

Except for The Notebook.

And no. I don’t drink pumpkin spice lattes. I don’t flick my hair back with acrylic nails (I don’t have hair to flip and my nails are bitten to stubs.) I don’t post selfies with Starbucks coffee cups and ‘my besties.’ I am not typically a basic white girl. But if you so dare as mention The Notebook to me, I will do one of two things. I will either jump up and down and rave with you about the film, or I will burst into tears. I have now rewatched the Notebook, and have been thourougly reminded of why I haven’t watched it in ages- because I don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with Allie and Noah as well as my own crap.

In conclusion, if you ever want to make me cry on cue without fail, just show me the last ten minutes of The Notebook. Don’t forget the chocolate and tissues.

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