There is part of me – a big part, an optimistic and sentimental part – that gobbled up everything that He’s Just Not That Into You sent my way tonight. It’s the part of me that loves watching beautiful people deliver perfect lines of dialogue in quirky settings. The part of me that trills when conversation zings. The part of me that has been waiting for Ben Affleck to make me grin again, that started watching Entourage for Kevin Connolly, who has thought Ginnifer Goodwin to be fantastic since I saw her in Win a Date with Tad Hamilton! and thought she stole the show from Kate Bosworth. The escapism-loving part of me who can’t wait for Chinese food and designer dresses when the Oscars arrive again on Sunday night. The part of me that now desperately wants a Mac if it means that Justin Long comes along with it.

That part of me – the part that falls right smack into the sweet spot of the movie’s target demographic – was in full control of my brain and faculties for about 90 minutes of the film. But then, with one exchange, the other part of me took over with a roar.

Greg Behrendt, what the hell do you think you’re doing with this?

Spoilers after the jump. Consider yourself warned.

For the sake of putting this response into context, let’s get real for a moment: I’m single. I overanalyze. I develop crushes. I’ve contemplated calling. I’ve called. I’ve wondered if my phone isn’t working. I’ve had smirks and giggles and blushes. I’ve wondered what on earth could possibly be so wrong with me that everyone else is coupling off and getting married or moving in together and I’m just continuing to do my own thing. I’ve assumed that things are just too hectic on his end, that he’s just trying to play it cool, that he’s definitely going to call me when he’s broken things off with his girlfriend.

Who’s the he? He’s a lot of guys. And even though I’m a strong and independent woman, I know that part of being such a woman sometimes is feeling like a clueless little girl.

So of course I identify with Gigi (Goodwin). I’m supposed to. That’s me, only with more caffeine and neuroses. Oh, and thinner and with better hair.

So I’m riding the empowerment train with Gigi as she’s learning from Alex (Long) that it’s not her. It’s him. And him. And that other guy. He’s just not into her. Not a problem. There will be a guy who is. In the meantime, she gets to listen to Hot Mac Voice as she learns to face the fact that she’s not the princess at the end of the out-there fairytales women tell each other to think optimistically about less-than-perfect situations. She’s the rule, not the exception.

As I’m watching this movie, I’m nodding my head in agreement with this plot arc and thinking back over my own history. It IS fine, isn’t it? He wasn’t worth the frustration. Neither was he. Oh, definitely not him (although, let’s be honest, that was fun). There will be a guy at some point, but in the meantime, I’m pretty damn fantastic, aren’t I? I’m the rule, not the exception, but more than that? I RULE. I don’t even need a Hot Mac Voice on the other end of my cell phone to realize that.

And then it happens. Gigi helps Alex realize that he IS just that into her. And, with one perfect exchange in the her apartment building’s hallway, she says it.

“I am the exception.”

And as Ginnifer Goodwin says these words with a dazzling smile that is clearly melting Justin Long’s heart, I tilt my head at the screen.

Wait. What is this? This isn’t what’s supposed to happen.

Sure, from a cinematic standpoint, I saw it coming during their first encounter. But from a personal point of view, this feels terribly, wretchedly wrong. I’ve linked myself to a character who has gone through a process of self-realization, who is learning that you can’t possibly expect to change the guy who would be perfect with a few major minor tweaks that aren’t going to happen, and then she finds that the guy has undergone a personal awakening (read: change) at just the right time to wrap her in his arms and profess his love.

And suddenly, sitting there in the theater, I want to know why there isn’t a Hot Mac Guy on my phone’s contacts list. I want to know why I don’t have something like that. Why am I not the exception? Why Gigi has that when she’s way more crazy than I have ever been and how that’s fair, as I clearly deserve it more than she does and does that mean there’s something wrong with–


This is where the other part takes over. I focus instead on chuckling and laughing at the rest of the charming movie, watching the expected pieces of the puzzle fall into place before the final credits roll. And I separate the two pieces of myself.

I focus on the fact that I too could have a Hot Mac Guy in 90 minutes, if I had a team of writers setting to paper the plot twists that are going to get us together. I focus on the fact that there’s logic in some of the things being said in the movie – and in the book, which I did in fact read when it first came out – and that keeping some of that in mind just might help me feel better about things in the times to come.

I focus on the fact that I rule and am the rule. But that I’m going to wind up with a hell of a story by the time I’m through. And yet, despite that, I accept that there are going to be random little moments where I doubt myself and wonder what’s wrong with me. It’s life. That’s how it works. This is just a cute little rom-com. Not life.

But, finally and just to be on the safe side, I focus on resolving not to go anywhere near an Apple store in the coming weeks. I mean, can you blame me? That voice is just hot. And I really don’t need a Mac right now.