If My Life Were a Movie

Lights, Camera, Leather Boots
Picture this: the opening scene is a wide shot of snow-capped mountains, a couple of elk grazing in the distance, and there I am, standing in scuffed leather boots, wrestling with a windblown cowboy hat as the morning sun breaks through the clouds. Rugged, right? Like a mix between a Coen Brothers’ indie masterpiece and one of those long, wandering car commercials narrated by Sam Elliott. That’s the vibe I imagine when I try to cast my hypothetical life movie. The thing is, life has a way of being more Wes Anderson quirk than Clint Eastwood grit.

And, let’s be honest, dating and relationships? Those are the moments when life switches genres entirely, from sweeping drama to full-on awkward rom-com.

So, who gets to play me? Who’s the leading lady? And who’s showing up for comic relief? Grab your popcorn—this is going to be a ride.

The Perfect Lead (or, At Least, Close Enough)
Here’s the thing: I’m pretty sure Hollywood doesn’t currently have “rugged Wyoming ranch guy who also reads Rumi and once got stranded in a Costa Rican rainforest during a particularly ambitious conservation trip” in their casting database. But if I had to pick someone, I’d go with a younger Viggo Mortensen. He’s got the weathered face and quietly contemplative vibe down, plus the ability to wield both a horse and a half-decent existential monologue.

Honorable mention? Chris Pine, largely because the dude wears flannel like he grew up splitting logs and has enough charm to pull off my more… let’s call them “quirky” life choices (oversharing on a first date, for instance, about the time a raccoon made camp inside my truck engine for a week).

But let’s be real—my movie wouldn’t be a Hollywood blockbuster. It’s more Sundance Festival territory: small budget, big heart, and one or two questionable wig choices.

The Romantic Lead (and Plot Twists That Go with It)
For the love interest in this theoretical flick—well, that’s a tougher cast. The truth is that most of my experiences with romantic leads have been less “cinematic fireworks” and more “two people trying to figure out how to communicate while sharing a plate of half-frozen nachos in a dive bar parking lot.”

There was the artist who swore she only felt alive surrounded by chaos (spoiler: chaos is not, in fact, conducive to healthy relationships). Then there was the accountant who had a penchant for spreadsheets, even on vacation. Nothing wrong with organization—but there’s a time and place to whip out Excel, and mid-hike is rarely it.

If I had to design the perfect actress to capture these moments? Someone like Aubrey Plaza. She’s got the right mix of cynicism and dry wit to make even the most awkward date seem endearing. Because let’s face it, the rom-com of my life would need someone who could roll their eyes at my stories about elk migrations but still find my attempt at Dutch oven cobbler charming.

The Supporting Cast (or: Why Friends Are the Real MVPs)
No good life movie is complete without the scene-stealing best friend or quirky sibling who offers way-too-honest advice at just the right (or wrong) time. My real-life supporting cast would bring their own flair to the story:

  1. The Devil’s Advocate – This role is reserved for my longtime buddy, Nate, who has the distinct skill of asking “But have you thought about what could go wrong?” during nearly every major decision I’ve made. In the film, he’d be played by Jason Bateman because Nate’s refined sarcasm deserves that kind of deadpan delivery.

  2. The Wild Card – Oh, this one’s Kristen Wiig. Hands down. This is for every friend who’s ever convinced me to join them for impromptu karaoke (despite the fact that I cannot, in any key or octave, carry a tune) or suggested “Hey, let’s try speed dating as a joke—it’ll be fun!” (Reader: It was not fun).

  3. The Mentor – Somewhere in my movie, there’d be a crusty but kind older neighbor character. She’d dole out dating advice while simultaneously offering me mason jars of homemade pickles or unsolicited critiques of my wardrobe. I’m thinking Meryl Streep in a no-nonsense, cardigan-wearing role.

The Genre Shift (Because Every Good Movie Needs a Crisis)
Here’s where the plot gets thick—or at the very least, mildly dramatic. Every life movie has to hit that point where it looks like the protagonist might lose it all. Cue the swelling music (probably something by Fleet Foxes or a moody Bon Iver track), gloomy shots of the hero staring blankly into the middle distance, and an upcoming decision that feels irreversibly life-changing.

In my case, the “crisis scene” might revolve around those post-college years where I wasn’t sure if I was cut out for relationships at all. A few relationship fails and one particularly lonely holiday season can make you wonder: am I the guy people date temporarily and then move on from? How do you pick yourself back up when you’re questioning whether lasting love is even something you’re wired for?

Spoiler alert: I figured it out (mostly). It involved a lot of journaling, a lot of conversations with friends over cheap whiskey, and one very good therapist. Life’s crises don’t always resolve the way they do in movies—they don’t cut cleanly to a dance scene or a spectacular sunrise. But if you’re lucky, they leave you with some understanding of where you went wrong… and how to move forward.

The Big Finale (Cue the Slow Motion)
Every movie about life and love ends with some grand realization, right? Maybe the protagonist kisses the love interest on a windswept hill, or maybe they simply learn to revel in their own company while hiking into the sunset. With my life, the ending would probably be a little smaller-scale.

Maybe it’s something silly, like me realizing the key to successful relationships is just keeping a spare blanket in my Jeep because, inevitably, someone’s always cold. Or maybe it’s a little bigger, like learning the value of showing up—for myself, for others, and for the seemingly endless opportunities love gives us if we’re willing to try again.

The best life movies don’t wrap everything in a perfect bow. They leave a little room for ambiguity, for the audience to imagine what comes next. I’d want mine to leave people with the feeling that even in the messiest moments—awkward first dates, long silences, and burnt cobblers included—there’s a lot to be grateful for.

Takeaway? You’re the Star of Your Own Story
Here’s the truth: your life might not feel movie-worthy. Some days, it barely feels Instagram-worthy. But no one else has your story, and no one else can play the lead quite like you can. So embrace the awkward dates, the late-night epiphanies, and the characters that make your life uniquely yours.

Because whether it’s a blockbuster or an indie flick, your movie matters. And the best parts? They haven’t even been written yet.