Take Me Back To The Night We Met

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
Haunted by the ghost of you
Take me back to the night we met

I am studying how the best romantic love scenes play out from back stage rather than from the front row.

My observations are specifically towards those heart wrenching, beautifully tragic, lovely stories. How two people found each other, grew together, grew apart, and the Chekhov’s Gun-style clues left on stage to indicate how the finale will play out. 

Set the stage: Two strangers. Girl is broken. Boy is broken. The two are destined to fall in love with each other. 

Meet cute does not mean love at first sight. It sets the roadmap by setting up a promise of conflict. Early on, we see the evident obstacle to overcome.

Their worlds collide.

They are both coupled with partners who left them confused and convinced they were unlovable. They see something in each other. Yet turn away, writing it off. Only to come back together after the removal of and healing from their respective partners. 

The said partners of boy and girl are not the antagonists in this story. 

The broken strangers are. They are also the protagonists of the story. 

They are the underdogs, they are the heroes, and they are the villains. All in one story. 

They are the leading characters, and they are the supporting acts.

They will fall deeply. They will put each other on pedestals. They will make sacrifices for each other. They will sabotage. They will scream and cry. They will win. They will celebrate. They will kiss and make up and make promises.

At first, this may appear to be a typical love story ending. But we leave the audience with nothing that they wanted but everything they asked for. Intrigue. Spontaneity. An emotional spectacle to be remembered. 

At intermission, our two characters exit stage left no less broken than they entered. 

The dramatic, romantic, comedic love story in between is what wins all the applause and standing ovations and roses thrown upon the stage after the curtain comes down.

Post-intermission plot twist.

Our plot is heading towards its conclusion. The musical composition dies down. From the very edge of every seat in the entire theatre, our oxytocin-craving audience is left with… a false ending. A cliffhanger. A loose end.

Some stay in their seats, waiting for the unresolved plot points to be answered. They are left with a dopamine-induced reeling from the attachment.

Lights up. Curtain close. Janitors enter.

The leading male and female are left to their dressing rooms alone to look themselves in the mirror, after laying it all out in their final performance. Wiping makeup off under the lights - or whatever is left of it from their tear-streaked faces. 

Their contract fulfilled.

Tomorrow, a cold reading with a brand new script.

Consequences - Camila Cabello