Back in July, Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio hung out poolside in St. Tropez, and for reasons I will never understand, the photos of their rendezvous were only released this week.
And look: I know Kate’s married to a man named Ned Rocknroll. I also know that Leo is dating a 23-year-old model named Lorena Rae. (Which, like, of course. Also: #why) (I mean, I know why. He’s not ready to make our relationship public yet and Lorena volunteered to step up in the meantime — it’s understandable.) But I also know that we deserve joy in the form of Jack and Rose 2.0, realizing they’ve been in love with each other the whole time.
Which is a narrative Star magazine’s been pushing, claiming the two are “lovers at last!” and appealing to the nostalgic sections of our hearts and minds. And do you know what? I don’t care. I want this to be real. I am Dana Scully or Fox Mulder and I want to believe. I need this. We need this. The world is collapsing in on itself, and this will not solve any of it even remotely because why would it, but it will be a thing we can have to distract ourselves with when we need to press pause and deep breathe.
I want to use two famous strangers to deliver When Harry Met Sally in real time. I want to be the Marie in this story, saying “I told you so” when they — for whatever reason — call me the morning after they finally hook up. (I don’t know how we become friends, I just know that we are.) I want Kate to say “I just realized I already knew” while Leo says . . . I mean, choose whatever line you’re into from Titanic because TBH his dialogue is not great. (“Never let go”? I mean, even that is kind of weak. I let go of things all the time, and I don’t intend to stop anytime soon.) I want what I and everybody else deserves: Kate and Leo as romantic soul mates.
And I don’t care how unrealistic that is or how out of line or out of place. I don’t care that I don’t know either of them, or that the poolside photos in question depict AT MOST a brother/sister dynamic. I don’t care that Kate is married and I don’t care that Leo is determined to date every model who’s ever been born. I do not care. And neither do you. Because if you did, you wouldn’t have read this far or read as many pieces on Kate and Leo as I did today or said out loud, “What kind of a last name is Ned Rocknroll?” (The answer: a made-up last name. That last name is made-up. Like most last names if I’m honest, but this time on the man’s own merit.)
So anyway, today we can pretend. We can pretend Kate and Leo are our coolest couple friends, or even just our friends at all, or we pretend that Kate is the only woman I’m fine with Leo leaving me for. Even though we all know he will never actually leave me at all.