Love story I’­­d thought it would be. Solid, sensual, earth-shattering and tangible. But it was all smiles and pretty hair and smatterings of borrowed scenarios from the best of Mills and Boon, but because it tried to be better than that, it ruined any chance of the real romantic. I tried you know. To feel something. Anything - But it left me cold. Cold. Yeah very pretty it was. Very. But that’s it. That’s that. She smiled too much. Too easily. Her smiles should have been in spite of herself and the situation she was in. Instead it was readily given. Toothy, wholesome - Completely inappropriate. His veins stood out, nostrils shivered, voice shook, eyes watered, but, but….. Nah! Where was the love. I saw nothing that made empathise with them. I didn’t necessarily root for them. When they died for apparently they couldn’t live without each other, I laughed at the absurdity of it all. It could have been my cynicism. My belief that, ‘come on! Get over it!’ and ‘Life goes on.’ But it wasn’t that. Cos I don’t feel that all the time. Somethings are worth waiting for, worth pining for, worth may be even dying for. But with those two, I didn’t feel it. Believe me! I was primed to cry for love or its loss. Instead I yawned, ate pop corn, then Thai food, and then played out some scenes of my own. But that a story for some other day.