Ruby Sparks

In life, we imagine how that perfect someone will walk into our life. We picture the movie-inspired scenarios, or those Nicholas Sparks’ novels. Sparks, Ruby Sparks. The movie I decided to spend my winter solstice. Snacking on mixed trail and Tim tam’s while sipping the perfectly brewed hot Hazelnut Milo I made just before I put the movie on. I believed it was a biography, or about a person, a one that occupied reality at one stage. 

Funny how I thought it was about a real-existing person. She was perfect for him. What he had in mind, and in every detail. The girl in the sunny haze in a dream he once had. Then out of nowhere, she existed. He might have mixed up reality, and his imaginations; whatever it could be, there she was. Just how he pictured her to be, sharing the same detail of the life he wanted her to hold.  It was good. I have to admit that I am being in the same boat with Calvin. How I wish that that special one will turn out what I exactly want them to be. However, I beg to differ having a non-logical explanation of how they suddenly came into my life. They have to have a proper entry in my life though, not just rock up from a concocted memory, or from a dating site or something like that. The sad bit about love (or whatever we should call that fantasy) is we make a puppet out of our illusion. 

 Photo: FilmEquals.com

By the poolside in one of the most striking dialogue in the film, “So that’s what you’re looking for in a guy... douchiness?...” I dunno, maybe I guess I was looking for you... Just took me a while to find you.” She jumps in the pool, the he follows. She asks, “What did you think the first time you saw me?” “I thought you were the most beautiful girl I ever saw.” “Were you disappointed when you got to know me?”  “How can you ask that?” “I’m such a mess.” “I love your mess.” “...The first time I saw you, I thought, ‘look at that boy, I love him, forever, and ever and ever.’” “What if you get sick of me?” “I won’t... I promise.” Then everything comes to a reality, or what if it actually happened and he was just logging everything? 

I thought of that at this stage until she was speaking French from the night the brother meets the imaginary girlfriend. We want things to happen our way. “Oh, I think a person who would have to do something pretty amazing to produce a good woman.”, was Harry’s reply to Ruby’s compliment. Then Ruby throws in, “He can be such a control freak, right?”, when Calvin was trying to keep things secret about the manuscript. We are control freaks, and we want things to happen. We control things, we want them to happen the way we want them to, we want people that we love behave the way we want them to. “This is insane! You manifested a woman with your mind.”, Harry freaks out to Calvin. 

He had the complete life with her, until he didn’t like the way she had her own self. To him, her becoming as a reality should stay in the bounds of his mind. She was nothing but a creation to him. He failed to see that the one she dreamed of, the one that lived in 9 cities in 6 years and wandering through life like he wanted her to be... is there, by him. Calvin lost it, as like we all do.

Whether or not Ruby was a real girl who was in a voodoo hex, and was cursed to be with a lonely man who would decide her fate, we can’t really say. She was absolutely perfect for him, but he blew it all away. He didn’t want her to have her own life. Calvin wanted to only to be only him and her, that when it was time for her to meet a part of him, he was on a book. It was alright for him to keep reading his book but not for her to sing her catchy melodies (which I happen to know) about love. “There has to be space in a relationship. Otherwise, it’s, like, we’re the same person.”

I can dream of the perfect one, but I have to accept the reality that for a very long time in their life, the formative years, I wasn’t in it. They had a life of their own, they had their own memories that no matter how detailed they will try to narrate it to me, I will have a different imagination as to how it actually happened. They will tell me stories about how they got the massive scar on their hind leg; but the stories won’t matter most, as I only see the beauty of the person who’s legs are on mine, how every bit of them are perfect and that those scars are a part of them and that it has made them stronger, and made those legs walk all the way to me. The wings of fate is now a mere debatable occurrence, whether I would be walking in a park, just to meet someone telling me that I look familiar or we probably go to the same coffee shop, only to tell them that they have been reading my thoughts the whole while.

x :: L