Boring Love Can be Romantic. Boring Love is Romantic — Thoughts on Past Lives.

These are just random thoughts I concluded while watching Celine Song’s Past Lives. This doesn’t totally summarize the movie, and there might be spoilers here and there. Basically, this is blabber!

I knew I wanted to watch it, but I didn’t know if tonight was the right time. If I am in the right head space to watch a film I’m not really inclined to watch — because you should know by now, I usually watch sapphic films or Filipino indies. And this film is definitely, very heterosexual — which is also my first comment when I started to see it. Why can’t you two just admit you like each other?!  Aside from it started slow for me, already thinking of letting go and just watch it next time. But I decided to stick with it till I got to the particular scene, the one on the screenshot.

Nora and Arthur’s relationship is so “adult”, I told myself. It runs on… huh. I’m not sure, but I think what I want to say is calculated? Precise? No. But it can also be. A love that isn’t too much. A love that is also not too less (at least on how they showed it on screen). Perhaps what I want to say is… is it’s honest. No. Bold? God, I don’t know how to describe it but sure, it’s boring. Familiar. Like how they both described how they started. You see, they are both writers who met in a residency and decided to sleep with each other because they were both single. And so they got married.

Their relationship is boring, but Nora joked that Arthur made it sound romantic — and hell, he did (which made me fucking scream silently).

What if you met somebody else at that residency? What if there was another writer from New York who had also read all the same books you had, and watched all the same movies, who could give you useful notes on your plays, and listen to you complain about your rehearsals?

Dude. That’s so Althea. I do believe that opposites have this distinct magic, like how magnets’ opposite poles attract, but when Arthur did that litany, all I could think of was, How lucky Nora is. 

It's just that you make my life so much bigger. And I'm wondering if I do the same thing for you.

You do. I'm just a girl from Korea, you know? And you're forgetting the part where I love you.

Boring love can be romantic.

Just like Alix Olson said, Sometimes, familiar becomes magic.

I know why this film has a lot of pull to the audience — romance, regrets, second chances, what ifs. I understand the fancy behind affections that aren’t said yet. Because you get all the tension that will make you say, This is killing me! (Heck, you can see that in the train scene. Will someone give in and hold the other’s hand?). The flirting. The thrill of the chase. That kilig. 

I know because I skip fan fics that are tagged as “established relationship” because it's more exciting when the characters are just about to start. How will their love blossom? Who will be oblivious? Who will admit their feelings first? (But damn, I hate the angst.)

Because once said, you fear the familiarity. You fear things will no longer be as cute and exciting as they were before — hence, some relationships end because they feel they are just trying to keep it every day when they no longer feel that it’s “fun”; so they find other ways to find the excitement — with someone else. But then, why choose thrill when you can chill? I can't bring myself to like the former despite how the majority loves it.

I like boring love. I don’t need to be swept off my feet and make my heart excited every time. I want a love that’s calm and assuring. Comforting. Chill. Mundane. Boring. Familiar.

Sure, there’s beauty in a love that's never said (or not yet said). But I do think what's more beautiful is a love (or even an affection) that's confessed. Said. Told. In all honesty.

Isn't it better to have a love that feels light? A love that has no tension and friction. Not forced. No insecurities, brings you comfort despite the quiet and noise, despite not comprehending some parts of you but knows you so well. A love that you can just say what you want to say, without the fear of breaking or ruining something — because even if something breaks, you’re allowed to repair it, even if it won’t be totally the same again — as it is fluent in forgiveness. A love that wouldn't make you ask. But if you do, you won't be afraid to do so. A love that you don’t need to chase because it’s right there, ready for you. Ready to hold you, walk with you. It's calm. Reassuring. 

Even if it's not returned the same way. (But sometimes, people are lucky. Love said and given is returned. Equally. If not, it’s still returned — in the way that they can and know.)

The last paragraph might contradict my thrill versus chill mindset, but I want to keep it that way, based on what I felt about Nora and Arthur’s relationship while watching the film.