Dear Reese:

Girl, I’ve been there. I’m going to take you back to a different time, another place.

OK, so it wasn’t seven years — it was more in the range of seven weeks. If that. Probably more like five, but who’s counting? We did share custody of two remotes — the one in his room, the other in mine.

It was an idyllic time. I was happy and he was dreamy, with green eyes and stories of his semester abroad. He was so worldly. You know how it is, right? I knew you would.

Anyway. We were happy. He was happy. Sure, I was working a lot, but that’s what life in the theater is, right? You’re putting together one project by day, presenting another by night…it’s hectic. It’s stressful. But you know how good it feels to crawl home and curl up on the couch with a movie or something with a guy who really seems to like you.

Until he starts to snark about it. You work too much. Or maybe, in your case it was, you’re too damn successful and sought-after, Reese. (Hidden message: You have an Oscar and I don’t, Reese. That, like, sucks.)

And then tension kicks in. You come home from filming, tired, looking for that shoulder on which to rest your head. You don’t want to talk about work. Work = exhaustion.

And then he starts bitching about how you don’t ask enough about his day. And how you really should find ways to not work as much. He’s tired of watching movies by himself, or just with the roommate who never really seemed to like you anyway, because you’d just breeze into the room at the end of the night, swathed in black, as if you were some dramatic person or something.

I mean, what?

And then your friends start complaining. “Why are you spending all of your time with him?” Bitch, bitch, bitch, all at you.

One thing leads to another and you, the overstressed, overworked, dedicated one, wind up realizing that the dude is an ass.

(If he’d had a costar, this guy probably would have done the same thing as Ryan. Well, no, actually. But he did act like an ass at the end.)

Don’t worry, darlin’. Things are going to get better soon and he’s going to regret this.

‘Til then? I recommend Ben & Jerry’s Coffee Heath Bar Crunch and Bridget Jones. Unless you were up for that part.

In which case, the movie totally sucked.

xoxo,
Victoria
p.s. Loved you in Election.