I saw Love Actually in the cinema when it first came out.
 
I was living in San Francisco and saw it on a date/non-date (I find it ridiculous that 15 years later, I still don’t know what that was, exactly). The guy I was seeing/not-seeing wanted me to meet his friends, and he thought that this would be the appropriate movie for that. It was fun. If I remember right, we went out for dinner or maybe drinks after (without his friends).
 
At that time, what impacted me the most about the movie was the “To me, you are perfect” scene. Mark (Andrew Lincoln), the grump, confesses his secret feelings for the newly married Juliet (Keira Knightley) who had been engaged to his best friend all through the first couple of minutes of the movie. I fought off tears when that scene came on, because unbeknownst to the guy I was with, I was harboring secret “To me, you are perfect” feelings for someone who, surprise surprise, was not him. I felt it all! So much so that I wrote my own “To me, you are perfect” letter to the object of my affection—something I never sent (thank god).
 
I still watch Love Actually all the time, sometimes not even during the holidays. And every couple of years, I find that the scene that means the most to me changes and shifts depending on where I’m at in life. 
 
All through my early and mid-20s, I empathized with Mark, hoping I would one day have my own “Enough… Enough now” moment. (It came. Eventually.)
 
As I endured major heartbreak towards my late 20s, I could see myself as Emma Thompson’s character, gritting my teeth and bearing it all in dramatic silence, while listening to Joni Mitchell. My situation was never as bad as hers (no cheating husband) but I liked to imagine my woes magnified by a million and it felt she and I were simpatico.
 
In my early 30s, my gaze shifted to Colin Firth, hammering away at his typewriter. I love how love had caught him completely unaware. “Just in cases” still remains a regular reply in my text message exchanges among friends.
 
Towards my mid-30s, I began to sympathize with the Prime Minister, however corny and embarrassing Hugh Grant’s dance sequence was. Even Prime Ministers get lonely! And even Prime Ministers can meet someone who’s exactly their type, albeit much younger! Second wind love exists! I particularly love the scene when they’re stuck in the car with the kid playing an octopus. So awkward (and yet…).
 
And every time I have a crush on someone, I think about Laura Linney’s giddiness at Karl (hello, Rodrigo Santoro), the enigmatic chief designer she’s had a thing for for two years, seven months, three days, and an hour and thirty minutes.
 
I haven’t seen Love Actually this holiday season yet. These days, the movie, like most anything that came out in the '90s and early aughts is deemed problematic. But in the spirit of holiday cheese, I like to suspend disbelief and live in my own private Christmas bubble. At this point, I have no idea which story line is going to strike my fancy. I am half-hoping I stick to one of the happier endings I’ve been relating to these last couple of years, but I’m also a little skeptical about it…wondering if I’m going to circle all the way back to Mark and “To me, you are perfect.” I guess I’ll find out tonight.

—C.