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The Best Time I Realized Sleepless in Seattle Sort of Sucks

In 1993, I was a bodysuit-wearing, barely-been-kissed, e.e.-cummings-quoting, show-tune-singing, sentence-diagramming 17-year-old, and the Nora Ephron way just resonated. Reeled in by a delicious Cole Porter-tinged soundtrack (so adult!) with a dash of Harry Connick, Jr. (my then-future husband, I was sure of it), I was a Sleepless in Seattle devotee before the opening credits faded in the dank movie theater at the mall where I breathlessly watched Meg and Tom pretend to fall in love for the first of however many times. READ MORE