What If This Is It?
On When Harry Met Sally, Talking at Night, and the lives we build while waiting for love
I’m beyond excited for The Materialists to come out: Celine Song’s new film after Past Lives, this time about a New York City matchmaker torn between an old flame and a new romance (played by my enduring crush, Pedro Pascal). To celebrate the release, some NYC theaters are doing something special: Song curated a list of iconic New York-set romance films that inspired her.
When I saw When Harry Met Sally on the lineup (screening that very night!), I bought a ticket immediately. It’s one of my favorite films. I could watch it again and again. I tried a new theater (which has bottomless popcorn and soda, so I’ll definitely be back) and noticed I wasn’t the only girlie rolling solo to the show. But somehow, this time, in a packed theater on a Wednesday night, it hit a little differently.
The film opens with Harry and Sally driving from Chicago to New York after college. They can’t stand each other. And yet, over the years, they keep reappearing in each other’s lives. Eventually, friendship deepens into love. They get their happy ending. But what stood out to me this time wasn’t just the love story, it was everything else they built in the meantime.
They had careers they cared about. Friends they showed up for. Books and dinner parties and solo movie nights. Yes, they may have been looking for love all along in one way or another. But they didn’t wait for love to start living; they were already living, and love just happened to show up along the way.
I’ve been reading Talking at Night, most of it while waiting on subway platforms, headphones in but nothing playing. It has echoes of Normal People: two people who fall in and out of each other’s lives for years, always in love, never quite getting the timing right. It’s tender and infuriating. I have to put it down sometimes just to breathe. And yet, it’s shaping up to be one of my favorite reads. While on a run, he’ll notice something that reminds him of her and take a picture, but never send it. When a motorcycle goes by, she thinks of him, because he spends all his free time in the garage tinkering. They try, in earnest, to build full lives, even with a love that lingers like fog.
I feel like this quote sums it up pretty well:
Seasons of good, and bad, and totally fine.
Sleepwalking.
Routine making.
Life passing like cars. Smells of petrol and bleach and instant coffee. Chest pain, fresh tulips, calories burned and units consumed and late night noodles out of a pot.
Good sex; bad sex. Rude waiters, and crying women, and long phone calls with relatives who expect it but have nothing to say, talk only about the washing, the neighbors, the things outside the window.
They do not think of each other. Often. They do not.
I know this newsletter is usually about books (don’t worry, I have plenty more on the list), but these stories (on-screen and on-page) feel like they’re in conversation with each other.
As someone single in New York, I’ve heard all the usual phrases: “It’ll happen when you least expect it,” “The longest relationship you’ll ever have is with yourself.” Since moving here three years ago, I’ve learned New York is full of contradictions: How can someone feel lonely in a crowd? How can we feel so at home sitting alone in Central Park? And yet, this city teaches you to hold both: the longing for something more and the fullness of what already is.
I’ve never been a fan of the book or movie that ends with a character dramatically “choosing themselves.” But something in these two stories has quietly shifted my thinking.
You might be wildly in love with someone. You might grow into love through years of knowing them. You might still be waiting.
And yet…
You make your favorite pasta on a Friday night, pour a glass of wine.
You buy yourself something nice, just because.
You read the backs of books and listen to what strangers recommend at your local bookstore.
You go on runs. You call your mom. You plan dinners with friends.
You sit in a dark theater by yourself on a Wednesday night, watching a movie you love.
Love is something we long for, yes. But it doesn’t mean life is on pause until it arrives. And who knows? Maybe we’re already living the dream, and we’re just now beginning to notice. The dream job, the supportive friends, the rhythm of it all. Maybe it’s enough.
Love would be nice. Wouldn’t it?
But for now, I’ve got this life… and a new Pedro Pascal movie to look forward to.