So I'm sitting at "home" (which is what we refer to as any place I'm staying these days, mainly with friends) watching the last hour of "Something's Gotta Give" on AMC. I switch it on at the moment that Diane Keaton's character starts writing the play about what happened during the first two thirds of the movie. And of course this is totally referential to "Annie Hall", the last romantic comedy she was charming in before this. So Erica (another interesting detail) runs into Keanu Reeves' character and they start dating again. The play about Jack Nicholson's character opens on Broadway, Jack realizes it's about him. He walks by the theatre one day, stops and sees Amanda Peet's character who tells him that Erica is in Paris for her birthday.
That's where Jack goes to meet his ex lover and her current lover, fully intending to declare his love for her. Wrong place, wrong time.
Okay, so here's where it comes back to me. I must have been doing something yesterday and I accidentally butt-dialed my ex (a few before this current ex). And we both would say that we use that term loosely. We dated for a month. I know. Ridiculous. He's not an ex boyfriend. But it was an exciting month. He's a very successful comedy writer in the biz. And I was (and still am) aspiring in that area. We've talked here and there over the years. But I butt dialed him of all people, which is so random. So as I'm watching this movie about playwrights and ex-lovers and someone named Erica, I get a text from my "ex."
In the play that I'd write about this, the text means something. It's like a letter in an Ibsen play.
I'm having a chuckle, but it probably means nothing. Other than my overactive imagination keeping me company on a quiet, rainy Saturday night in Los Angeles.
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