Misplaced misprize

Nicholas Sparks has never really interested me. I tried to read A Walk to Remember but it was just so cliche and sappy I could never get through more than two pages without predicting (accurately) the next few.

The original plan was to go see Raising Helen tonight-me and a few friends; however, we didn't realize that the theatre was no longer showing our choice. I was disappointed. I wanted John Corbett. I wanted Kate Hudson. I wanted funny, light-hearted, predictable romance.

Being the Shakespeare Festival city that we are, H decided to head out to see Henry IV with her sister who landed free tickets. C and I decided that we didn't wish to be educational in our evening pursuits, but rather hedonistic. We wanted entertainment! So, although I can't stand Nicholas Sparks, for the sake of my friend, I went to see The Notebook.

Presumptions aren't always correct and we all know what assuming makes us, so I was... an ass. I was stubborn. But I was wrong. This movie held my attention and for a while I couldn't figure out why. I am no augur, but this was easy: Wealthy girl falls for working class guy. Parents disapprove and break young couple up. Girl and Boy separated and one begins new relationship while other stays true. Girl realizes that happiness is more important than money and chooses the right guy in the end. So, why did I like it? I am female, I like a good chick flick, but this was different. Then I realized it.

That die-for-you, tortured-without-you love that the main characters, Alli and Noah, had for one another. I am crazy in love with R and I know that he is with me, also. That is what drew me into the story. There was a time before we were married that I thought we would never be together and I just knew I was going to die. Not physically, but that my soul would become petrified and cold. I knew that I mentally would go berserk seeing him with someone else-that I would know what she had was supposed to be, should have been, mine and that she was feasting at the best table while I was emaciated and starving.

Marriage is sometimes hard. Damn hard. There are so many things that complicate it or that we allow to get in the way of just loving each other. Anytime someone tells me they never fight with their spouse, I must admit, I automatically classify them as frigid and superficial. You don't fight because you don't even really know each other; you're so busy pretending, I think. In my twenties, I spent too much time attempting to be the wife all the books and magazines and friends told me I should be instead of being the one in whom R delighted and the one who held his heart in her smile; her laugh; in her energy and mercy. I also read many books on just what ways he should be contributing to this relationship instead of looking into those blue eyes and listening to the only voice that has ever calmed this heart; instead of feeling the strength of that beautiful strong back that has borne much for me; instead of feeling his heart pounding against my own, I allowed someone who never met us dictate our marriage for us. I don't negate wisdom, I do challenge cookie-cutter inanity.

It was truly touching to see James Garner play the aged and elderly Noah caring for his sweetheart. Watching him tell their story to his wife suffering with Alzheimer's wrenched my heart. Each day he anonymously told her again the wonderful story of two young lovers in the hopes of arousing some memory of it being their story, her story, and in encouraging her recognition of him: her one true love. He needed to see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice that she knew who he was and who she was and all they had been through together.

While the ending was a bit far reaching for me, the other 100 minutes was worth the $6.50 I had initially bregrudingly paid because it reminded me of my R and I together.

But I'm still not going to read Nicholas Sparks....he's so cliche....right?