...is totally what they should have called that movie.
I was looking forward to it, because in the previews, the scenery looked gaw-jess, and I love Diane Lane. And Richard Gere is ol' man hot.
I should have paid better attention. I should have done my homework. The opening credits began, and it appeared on the screen...
Based on the best-selling novel by Nicholas Sparks.
I realize I am probably the only woman in the Free World that does not like Nicholas Sparks. If it weren't a bad word in this house, I would venture to say I hate Nicholas Sparks. Not the man, mind you. I am sure he is a lovely fellow. But Damn. It. I cannot stand his books. I swore him off after I read "Message In a Bottle". He got me all emotionally invested in the main character, I rooted for him in his struggles, cheered for him when he overcame and found love again, and then he freaking killed him off. What in the ever-loving hell is that about? GAH. I cried...like really *cried* when I read that book. No thanks. I am so done with his books.
So, when I saw that this was a movie based on one of his books, I just could not let myself get emotionally attached. I told the hubs, "Oh boy, one of those two are going to die. They will struggle with some inner demons, fall in love, and then BAM. Someone is going to buy it." He says I ruined the movie for him because I kept harping on the inevitable outcome throughout the entire 97 stinkin' minutes. I knew some sort of meaningful memories were going to be stored in that damn box she was building. I knew he was going to be the one to croak. I knew it would be in Mexico, and that great embrace they shared when he left would be their last.
Who knew I would prefer the other movie he got? Hey, "Don't Mess With the Zohan". Ok?
Oh, and P.S. I did not see "The Notebook" and never plan to. Those people are old in that movie, and I can guess how it ends. I am a genius that way.