It hit me during a drunken sunny moment this afternoon that Cary Elwes has absolutely destroyed my chance of ever having a normal love life. Specifically, Cary Elwes playing Westley in the Princess Bride.
This observation is not entirely random. As was pointed out by a male friend of mine during said drunken sunny moment, the last guy I dated looked freakishly like said Cary Elwes. It was more the Cary Elwes of Lady Jane, but the resemblance was so eerie that on one Ambienified evening after seeing that particular film, I actually texted him to make sure he still had his head attached to his shoulders. Actually, in reality, he did not. Metaphorically at least. C'est la vie. I loved him anyway, although he later turned out to be a total cad. Even good looks can't disguise pure douchedom.
But this disenchantment actually has little to do with the secret wish that an ex-boyfriend would grow a pencil thin mustache and wear a black mask on Sundays. It really has to do with the curse of every little girl who has buried herself in fairy tales, and golden-hued movies. Did Buttercup and Westley ever stop in the Fire Swamp for a pee break and did he ever get on her ass about her utter uselessness during that ROUS attack?
I think, before I go on, I need to know the answer to both questions is a most definitive "yes."
It Is Happening Again
21 hours ago