Let me make it clear right here and right now that I am not a fan of romance novels or movies. If a situation contains even one lone molecule's worth of the scent of schmaltz, Fabio's pecs, a distressing damsel, or Meg Ryan's trout pout, it will send me running into the night, never mind the high heels. I may even be screaming. I am, for sure, gagging.
Except. Except. EXCEPT. When it comes to The Way We Were. For some reason this movie, this very one, gets me every time. I think the ending is the worst, because, seriously, they should have stayed together—they should have made it work!—so viewed in that way, it fills the requirements of this week's MCW theme. Viewed another way, of course, the ending is near perfect in the way it clutches at the heart strings and nudges the tear ducts.
Stupid tear ducts.