On Valentine’s Day, I watched Dirty Dancing with my mum and my sister, in the movie theatre (they were showing it again, because it has been 30 years since it came out). The movie was perfect—the music, the pink lighting in the final dance scene, Patrick Swayze’s smooth moves and dreamy looks. During the famous, “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” scene, I sat in my seat sobbing. Everyone was dancing together, in harmony, as if nothing bad would ever happen to them again, as though their lives would be perfect forever. It was a dream. I sat in the movie theatre, wishing that my life could be perfect, too.

I wish I could meet a dreamboat. I’d go on summer vacation and everything would be great, everyone would know the choreography to the music, even though they hadn’t practiced. But I know my life isn’t like that, and I doubt anyone else has a life like that either. Dirty Dancing is very similar to my fantasies, when I find it hard to fall asleep some nights—a perfect boy, and a perfect ending.

I guess films should be like this, though. That way, when I have a bad day that makes me question my time here on this planet, I can watch Dirty Dancing and see perfection, a visual representation of my fantasies.

I hope that someday, I’ll meet my Patrick Swayze, because I really don’t want to be alone, forever. Please, cool dream boy, wherever you are, try to find me. Walk in my direction. I’m waiting for you. ♦