Hometown

I just watched this movie called, Junebug (2005). It was really sad. Here, you can read a summary and review of it by Roger Ebert.

It reminded me of my visit to an ex-boyfriend's house in California. I left thinking and realizing we were too different. I could never fit his L.A. lifestyle. And I couldn't wait to get back to NY to live our lives there. But the funny thing is, you don't realize who you're going out with entirely until you meet their family, their hometown, their background. It's...so...different. And sometimes, you're not sure if you like it or not. I felt out of place in L.A. I couldn't believe it. His role there, with friends and/or family. It wasn't the same him from NY. A few months later, we mutually broke up, and I was glad. We knew our lifestyles didn't really match.

I remember an instance from that trip. I was sitting at a dinner table with guests all around me during his "coming-of-age" ceremony. I watched him up there at his podium giving a speech to everyone in his silk kimono. He always told me he hated japanese people, his own culture. But there he was, doing his duty. He said thanks to the all the guests and mentioned that the next time they'll all meet again in a banquet hall would be at his wedding. And then every single person looked at me, clapped, and laughed as I blushed and covered my face. But I knew he wasn't referencing me at all. I heard it in his tone and he wasn't looking at me up there. The night before, I think we both knew that it probably wasn't going to last. So I took his remark as a joke, something to make himself look charming in front of his family & friends. But for some reason, it still seemed okay for everyone to keep taking photos of us two together. It was like his achievement to them. (ya know how old people get). I just smiled. They kept saying they were so glad to meet me finally. It was as if him and I were fooling his hometown.

But when I met Jon, everything and everyone was fine. I was very comfortable. I even cherish Long Island itself. It fit me. And I think I would've fit it. He also seemed to fit my family and he loved Houston a lot too. I miss Long Island. I miss the green hills, tall trees, blue beach, winding roads, small-town charm, and isolation from excessive commercialism. No wal-mart or any chain in sight. I miss his house, a million dollar home, with gigantic trees and bushes all around. I always wokeup to bird chirping and leaves rustling. The window would be open as I showered. His driveway was hidden and so was his house. You'd miss it if you didn't know the color of the mailbox. We'd go canoe-ing down a 5 mile river, hit golfballs at some beautiful range, eat italian ice outside on a bench, bike to the beach, hike through the forest, and then pig out at his house. He didn't have any friends he still hung out with from Long Island, so it was always just him and I, and occasionally our mutual friends who'd come along for a get-away. I loved it. I felt so genuine and my whole surrounding was like home. And the most important thing was that he was still the same old him that I knew.