Her (2013) 
Directed by Spike Jonze

I dated K for twelve years. We were teenagers when we met, in our senior year of high school. I noticed her in my film class and stared from afar, hoping she felt the same way about me, hoping she’d make the first move. I did this (sitting idly, doing nothing) for six months. Then, one day, without preparation or any plan to speak of, I started talking to her. We spent the day on a special project and talked. And as the days went on, we talked more. I didn’t have a cell phone at the time, so texting wasn’t an option. It would be Friday and I’d be sad that I wouldn’t see K until Monday. Finally I asked her out. We went on a date. We went to prom. We ended up going to the same college for undergrad. We ended up moving-in together. She supported me. I supported her. We caused each other joy and pain in equal measures. We did this for over a decade. 

My 20s were largely an extension of my teens. I think that’s what we saw in each other. Our youth. But we were growing up and drifting apart. I was experiencing new things away from her. We weren’t intimate like we were before. And so I broke up with her. I want to say it was a hard thing to do, but in the moment it wasn’t. One day, I just decided that I was tired of the routine and monotony. I had met a litany of new and exciting people leading up to the decision and I felt dread seeing K, my best friend for over a decade. 

We had a conversation about marriage a few months before the end. She was someone who didn’t really see the point in it until, one day, she decided she wanted to get married. Because it wasn’t important to her, it wasn’t important to me. And when asked to change my mind, I realized that I was drifting in my life, on auto-pilot. The thought of marriage didn’t scare me, but it was the thought of marrying K that filled me with… nothing. Not excitement. Not joy. Not anything. My parents have been in a loveless marriage for decades. I didn’t want to repeat their mistakes. 

K and I remained in contact for longer than we should have. The adjustment from being with someone for so long and then alone was remarkably difficult. The psych ward diagnosed me with Adjustment Disorder and left me to it. K, having moved in with her twin sister, remained a presence in my life. Sometimes we’d grab breakfast together. A few weeks before Chicago was placed on lockdown, when COVID was something imperceivable, we dined at a Wicker Park restaurant and went for a walk on a warmer than expected February morning. I was practicing some basic French after taking some classes at the Alliance Française. She studied French as an undergrad and for some reason I just didn’t appreciate how brilliant her mind was when we were together. That was the last time I saw her. 

We texted about once a week. Checking in on each other. When my life collapsed in June 2020, she checked in on me. And as the pandemic began to wane, I asked if she was interesting in hanging out again. She’d brush me off, concerned about exposing her parents. Since I work at a hospital, it was a common reason that I didn’t think much of. But then people were getting vaccinated and I would ask again and still, she’d pass. I got the hint so I stopped pressing. But on a drunken night a few weeks ago I finally just asked, for clarity. Are we ever going to see each other again? Her reply was simple and straightforward. We’d drifted apart. We’re not friends, we’re exes. And there’s nothing more to it than that. We haven’t texted since. I don’t think we ever will. 

K existed as my partner, my friend, for 35% of my life. That number will now decrease until the day I die. 

The ending of Her has Theo do what he does best: write deeply moving letters. This time though, it’s for his ex-wife:  I’ve been sitting here thinking about all the things I wanted to apologize to you for. All the pain we caused each other, everything I put on you - everything I needed you to be or needed you to say. I’m sorry for that. I will always love you because we grew up together. And you helped make me who I am. I just wanted you to know there will be a piece of you in me always, and I’m grateful for that. Whatever someone you become, and wherever you are in the world, I’m sending you love. You’re my friend til the end. 

I couldn’t have put it better.