A Lot Like Wise Love

Not one to touch the specialist genre of movies termed "romantic comedies" by certain critics and gourmands with a bargepole (and quite likely to beat off, with the said pole, any such movie that might look vaguely as if it would start creeping towards me), a strange confluence of events led me to watch "A Lot Like Love" with RG. Weeks of negotiating in Bahasa Indonesian (ήχοι όπως τα ελληνικά σε με), listening to The Bravery while doing the accounts, the shock of Chris Ujine Ong actually being nice to this "sound of a tired horse being flogged half to death" (are yer losin' yer juice mate?), contending with the sudden disappearance of climbing kakis, and a continuing distinct disinterest in Stephanie Sun's swing shoved me towards this new experience.

S$8 and about 107 minutes of Ashton Kutcher and Amanda Peet (that Demi Moore look-alike but without the saggy knees) trying to get it together later, I realised I hadn't missed much in romantic comedy terms. The film implied the existence of The Perfect One, a specific soulmate, without which one's life would not be complete.

Later in the snaking taxi queue (need that motorbike licence pronto!) RG asked if I thought that there was such a thing as The Perfect One.

Yes and no.

Yes in the sense that one's spouse, whoever they may be, would be The Perfect One; the one in whom God intended that we should find marital contentment and sexual fulfilment, because God has designed us to find that satisfaction and fulfilment in faithful heterosexual relationship of marriage.

No in the sense that after one is married, there is no chance that he has married the wrong person and somewhere out there, he has missed out on The Perfect One. He has already married her.