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I watched Love Actually tonight, just to see if at any point, due to largely unrelated factors, I would break down into such heavy sobbing that I thought I might never be able to stop. But I didn't cry at all. So that's proof that my life is better than when I was single. Facebook told me today that I had been friends with my wife for 10 years. You seem to like each other a lot, it told me. Which should put people's minds at rest about the internet surveilling us. I mean my status says I am married to my wife and Facebook hasn't even picked that up. So I reckon it's probably not that bothered about your personal life.
Ten years ago I had already been out for a drink with Catie and basically spilled the beans that I was hopelessly in love with her. I held off telling her that I had an overriding feeling that we'd have kids- I was expecting two, a boy and a girl - because I didn't want to put her off and make her think I was weird. I thought I'd keep my cards close to my chest on that one and let her wait ten years to find it out. I've been on Facebook for ten years and a week or so, though Catie remembers me having another account first - I'd signed up but not really used it. Our early conversations were on myspace. I didn't know I was in love with her then, but was always excited to hear from her, so maybe I should have known. Anyway, here we are, a decade on, and Facebook has just twigged that we like each other.
Of course it's making a pun about the fact that we've liked each other's statuses 142 times (creepy that it knows), but that doesn't seem like very many for a decade. it's only 14 a year. Between the two of us. I'd say that's a bit stand-offish. Especially given we have had sex at least twice.
I love to hate Love Actually, though as the years pass (and the brilliant Lindy West called this a long time ago), it does seem increasingly rapey and unromantic. Tiffany from Eastenders being constantly and incorrectly fat-shamed and then feeling the need to apologise for being sexually harassed by the American President is probably the bit that stands up least well. But for a romantic film there is also an awful lot of unnecessary nudity in it. I am still looking out for the job of actor stand in that requires you to be nude “for the lighting†and to touch people's naked breasts “for the lightingâ€, even though unless they very specifically choose stand-ins with the exact same skin tone as the actual actors, then I can't see why that would be of any help - but no offers so far.
Anyway, I didn't cry or laugh, but I loved to hate Love Actually, actually. So I had my cake and ate it.
Then I tried to watch Little Man, a film so terrifyingly awful it made the Cobbler look sophisticated and which didn't even have the excuse of starring Adam Sandler. It made the retrospective offensiveness of Love Actually seem positively charming. Even though I was quite drunk I couldn't force my way to the end. It was comedy as broad as everyone seems to imagine Martine Mccutcheon's thighs, so broad that the punchlines have actually disappeared over the horizon. I think a small man pretending to be a baby so he can (at least partly) fondle women's breasts and French kiss them would probably even seem out of order to Donald Trump. The astonishing thing though is the quality of the “special effects†given that the film supposedly cost $65 million.
I didn't get to the end. But one day I will. That's a promise. This might become my new Christmas film.
