Peggy Sue Got Married

With her high school reunion looming, former Prom Queen Peggy Sue (Kathleen Turner) embraces anxiety, post-graduation having not been ideal, inasmuch as her husband's (Nicolas Cage as Charlie Bodell) a cad.

But she's hoping he won't show up even if he's a local celebrity, who sells various commodities on television, somewhat profitable but also embarrassing. 

She finds a stunning dress and boldly makes a daring entrance, quickly running into cherished old friends, while avoiding questions about married life.

Yet pesky Charlie breaks his promise and suddenly appears with grandiose spectacle, old friends flocking to eagerly greet him, bucolic burnish, sedate success.

Peggy can't handle the pressure and swiftly and awkwardly passes out, only to awaken 25 years younger, having inexplicably travelled through time. 

A second chance having fortunately materialized she goes about making amends, notably with a brilliant overlooked science student (Barry Miller as Richard Norvik), and an articulate passionate artist (Kevin J. O'Connor as Michael Fitzsimmons). 

But she still can't outmaneuver her upcoming future, even if she gives her potential husband the cold shoulder, as she accidentally learns new pieces of information which startlingly tenderize his former life.

Will traditional unalterable patterns conjugally re-emerge with eternal contemporaneity? 

Or will she freely try something new?

Perhaps unprecedented amalgamations! 

Can't say I eruditely comprehend the practical realities of wedded bliss, as actively attained with vehement clarity bewildering intimate conjoined life.

When younger, it seemed like sharing my life with someone was indeed a wise path to follow, but having made it to middle age, I currently find I'm much more interested in steadfast freedoms.

Unfortunately, I was deemed misguided and too carefree for traditional alignments, generally because I wasn't prone to argument or daring extracurricular reckoning.

Thus, I was far too boring at a time when partners didn't seek reliability, but rather preferred prosaic drama and lavish spending and fierce discord.

But fret not if in a similar position of resolute tantamount stoic prudence, a day is coming when desire will wane and it will all seem somewhat ridiculous.

I imagine I'd be out the door by now if I had ever bothered anyhow.

I may have dodged a bullet.

Who knows!

Tomorrow, I'm sleeping in.