Accidentally In Love

I saw the movie version of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy a few days back, and absolutely hated it. I had been warned of its demerits in the past, which is probably why I never went to watch it while it was still running in theaters a couple of years back, for being the huge fan that I was, and continue to be, of the book, I was playing it safe. The last thing I wanted was a substandard movie to come along and ruin the book for me.

But a few days ago, as I mentioned, curiosity got the better of me, and after much contemplation, I finally decided to, as many would say, fuck it all, and thus thinking, procured a DivX print of the movie, and sat myself down to watch it.
It was, as I also mentioned, terrible, especially for someone who is as fond of the book as I am. The story was all wrong and messed up, and the best parts had been cut out. The beginning was corny, and Zaphod's second head was most shoddily done. John Malkovich was completely wasted as Humma Kavula, Deep Thought had a female voice (which was not, I might add, rich, resonant and deep), and Ford Prefect was black (which makes sense, actually, because Ford Prefects are, usually, black, and Mos Def does end up doing a fairly good job, but the fact remains, they made Ford Prefect black), a travesty I have still not managed to overcome.

So, as you can probably make out from the preceding paragraph, I absolutely detested the movie, for what it was, and for how it reflected on the book.

You would, therefore, be most puzzled to know, that I watched the entire movie again a couple of days back. It is a matter that, I am sure, baffles and perplexes. There seems to be no logical explanation that can satisfactorily explain the given situation. Why would a seemingly sane man (and I say seemingly for I, like you, am also not too certain if the assumption holds, although I am desperately trying to hang on to the belief that it does) watch a movie he professes to hate a second time within a fortnight?

A logical explanation, however, I assure you, does exist (which is probably what enables me to desperately hang on to the belief that the above mentioned assumption holds). It goes somewhat like this.
I am, completely and most definitely, in love with Tricia McMillan, or Zooey Deschanel, as she is more commonly known.

Which brings me, finally and in a somewhat long-winded way, to the reason why this blog post is being composed. I have often, and to a much larger extent in the recent past, been accused of falling in love far too easily. I try valiantly, whenever such allegations are brought up, to defend myself by vehemently denying these baseless claims, and proceeding to viciously assault the character and authenticity of whomever it may be making the accusations.

However, a little bit of closer introspection reveals, and I am trying to be brutally honest with myself here, that what many are saying might indeed be true. Over the past fortnight, I have fallen completely and irreversibly in love with Lena Headey (Queen Gorgo from 300), Preity Zinta (a couple of hundred times), Mirinda advertisement girl (I don't quite know what her name is), Minissha Lamba (the pretty new Bollywood actress working in Honeymoon Travels Pvt. Ltd.), Meg (from the animated feature film, Hercules), Priyanka Chopra (spotted her on the telly while channel-surfing), Abigail Spencer (from Angela's Eyes), Emma Watson (I was watching the new Harry Potter trailer), in addition to, of course Zooey Deschanel, as well as a couple of other people who I happen to know slightly better than the ones mentioned above.

But then, as I see it, this isn't necessarily a problem. I have no qualms with falling in love at periodic intervals of time, and I see no reason why I, or anyone else for that matter, should be denied the liberty to do so.
I am, however, I have to admit, not a little disturbed by the logical implications of the situation at hand, for it is quite clear, on a bit of closer rational analysis, that the very obvious upshot of, in essence the very factor that enables my being excessively prone to fall in love is just a tad bit worrying.

It's not the falling in love as frequently as I do that bothers me.
It's just that I seem to falling out of it just as frequently.