Knocked Up

It was March 14th. I was bored; I wanted to watch a little TV. I couldn't find much on that interested me. I checked my Guide. "Knocked Up" was on E! at 7:30.

I'd seen it before. H and I watched it on DVD. Just seeing the title and description took me back. I told myself to find something else to watch. Anything else.

I couldn't. I didn't. I watched it.

I thought of H the whole time. I missed him horribly. I wondered, not for the first time but certainly with renewed panic, whether I'd ever be in a relationship again. I missed H. I missed being with him, I missed our relationship. I missed watching movies, ordering pizza, acting a little goofy and being completely enamored of each other. I missed the slight scratch of his goatee as he kissed me. I missed the way he'd look at me, like I was the most beautiful, amazing woman on earth. I missed believing he meant it when he said he loved me. I missed believing that I loved him back.

It depressed me. Horribly.

The movie depressed me for other reasons, too. Mainly because I'm not Alison and H isn't Ben. I always hoped that H would pull a Ben - grow up, be responsible, be involved. Love me. Pledge something - his heart, his time, his attention, something. I always hoped for something more. It never came.

"Knocked Up" was pitched as this raunchy guy movie. And it certainly is (I think the unedited version contains more expletives than "The Departed"). But it's also a sort of fairy tale. It's fantasy. Completely unrealistic. Things don't really happen like they did in the movie. The guy never grows up. Never. There's no happy ending. Mistakes with birth control do not turn into happy families.

And yet I wish they did. I wish that H was the best version of himself, and that we were together in a cozy little place with our baby. I wonder if I'll ever have another shot at that kind of cozy domesticity to which I aspire.

I hate that movie. I hate it. I hate how it made me feel, how it made me miss things. I hate it, and I hate how it's made me reconsider my life without H. It brought up things I don't want to think about, feelings I don't want to feel. It made me miss H, and I HATE it when I miss H. I don't ever want to miss him.

I hate that I do. I hate that life is never like the movies. I hate that I wasn't enough for H. That a baby - HIS baby - wasn't reason enough for him to grow up, to be a man, to stand for something. I hate him sometimes. I hate myself sometimes. I wish I could take back the past two years of my life.

Except for Roo. I'd never take back Roo. I'm learning, slowly but surely, to appreciate that the crap I've been through is what got her here. She is worth my miserable past.

If having her means I cry while watching crappy movies, so be it. I can live with that. I confess, I wonder if H can live with that too. I wonder if he's seen "Knocked Up" since things went sour between us. I wonder what he thinks. If he regrets anything. If he ever misses me. If he ever envies Ben.

I hope he does. I hope he's learned something from all of this. I know that I have.