I Didn’t Want to Wait, But I Did

This parody piece was originally published on Tumblr on June 29, 2013, following the public news of Katie Holmes divorcing Tom Cruise. Facebook’s “On This Day” feature reminded me about that post last night (writing it had long ago departed from my memory) so I decided to republish it here.

At the conclusion of the historic documentary “Dawson’s Creek,” Pacey had fallen back (weeeeeee roller coasters are so fun!) into a relationship with a resigned and waffling Joey. They had a flat in NYC. They were happy scheduling stilted conversations and regularly bickering about Dawson and whether or not “Felicity” accurately depicted their NYC.

All the while, Dawson never stopped longing for her even after leaving for FILM SCHOOL (!!!) in California. He filmed leaves as they dropped, sorrowfully, from the trees. Their movement and changing colors reminded him of the swirling indecision of the boner fertilizer who had once lived next door. His camera made love to those leaves. He made love to a dish towel the color of Joey’s hair.

He obsessively talked about their great, unrequited love to every classmate at FILM SCHOOL (!!!) until they all grew so jealous that they stopped talking to him. He saw her everywhere. In the clouds. In the faces of the Sunset Strip prostitutes he paid to sit with oars in his bathtub. Even in the mirror, reflected, staring back at him when he held up pictures of her in front of the mirror. Theirs was a romance of mythological proportions. Even cupid would soon spell “romantic” in a new way: “Dawson Leery.”

The wedding invitation arrived. Potter/Witter. There’s only one thing left to do. His trump card. For the love of Spielberg, he had no choice. He wrote, directed, filmed, starred in, key-gripped for, edited, and burned onto DVD a poignant film to play at Pacey and Joey’s NYC wedding. That DVD drove another wedge between Pacey and Joey as well as Pacey and Dawson as well as Joey and Dawson. Torn, conflicted and high on a green tea latte, Joey bolted. In her homemade — but still stunningly beautiful — wedding dress, she ran completely across the country like Forest Gump’s melodramatic sister. Ironically, she stopped to rest and to buy a second green tea latte in Los Angeles, home of 99% of the world’s FILM SCHOOLS (!!!).

32 minutes later, she was kidnapped and brainwashed by a clinically-insane Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, a Navy man, who never got over the untimely deaths of both Goose or Goose’s twin brother Dr. Mark Greene, his co-besties. His grief had driven him straight into an aging Vinnie Barbarino’s tender, exploring arms. To keep up heterosexual appearances and preserve his universal box office appeal, he needed a beard. Someone tall. Preferably someone not named Dr. Claire Lewicki. Preferably a woman. Joey simply arrived at the wrong time.

The next Wednesday evening, Pacey fell through a mysteries crack of light and ended up in a parallel universe where he married a chick who he thought was Joey because she looked like Joey and bit her lip like Joey even though she acted just a little bit… off. He thinks he is living happily ever after with alternate Joey. If only he could stop focusing on the fringe on her ever-present jean shorts. Never mind, the fringe was meaningless. All’s well, she just bit her lip again.

L.A. became Joey’s Stockholm and she grew to believe she loved Maverick. There was no one else. He was her world. He was her Batman. Still there was something… off. A voice in her dreams never stopped whispering “I don’t want to wait, Joey. Come back to the creek.” That voice was Paula Cole. After 6-years of listening to Cole provide a repetitive soundtrack to her dreams, on a day filled with thunder, Joey put the pieces together. She bundled up Suri, asked Siri for directions to the nearest creek and never looked back. Well, once, to carefully explain the entire situation to the paparazzi who was stalking her. At least she thought it was the paparazzi. At any rate, she detailed the last six years in a two hour conversation with a man holding a camera phone at a gas station. Suri sat patiently in the car, playing Angry Birds simultaneously on her iPad, iPhone, and iPod Touch.

As they pulled away from the gas station, waving at the paparazzi gas station attendant, Joey noticed the colorful billboard to her right. Barbarino and Mitchell would soon be appearing on stage in “Grease of Ages: A Fry-Cook Finds Religion.” She shook her head as a half smile flitted across her face, knowing the weight of waiting had finally been lifted.

Originally published at kevinridolfi.tumblr.com on June 29, 2012.