On Saturday afternoon I saw “Bend It Like Beckham.” If you’re in the U.K., you’ve probably already seen it. If it’s currently playing in the U.S. where you are, run out and see it yesterday. I hate to use a cliché such as “feel-good movie,” but it’s a terrifically wonderful feel-good movie. It’s also the best movie with a big Indian wedding that I’ve seen since last year’s “Monsoon Wedding.” (Also the only movie with a big Indian wedding that I’ve seen since last year’s “Monsoon Wedding,” but that’s beside the point.)

I love you Brits, innit? (Am I using that correctly?) I don’t know what it is about you guys, but I love you. And that’s good, because — U.K. bloggers take note — I plan to visit London sometime this summer, as a friend of mine will be living there for six months. I’ll visit, that is, if I can get over my post-9/11 fear of flying, which I pretty much was over, until I saw yesterday’s Times article about the threat of shoulder-launched missiles being fired at airplanes.

Yay.

In other news, my love life sucks. More accurately, it’s nonexistent, which is usually (but not always) the same thing. It’s a common story: I’m interested in him but he’s not interested in me, or vice versa. The thing is, I know that getting a boyfriend isn’t going to solve the other issues in my life — in fact, it might complicate them — so while getting a boyfriend seems to be a priority for me in theory, when push comes to shove I don’t seem to be willing to lower my expectations just yet.

And then yesterday I watched Woody Allen’s “Husbands and Wives,” which is about how romance is hard and how sometimes you have to lower your expectations. And that’s for straight people, who have a dating pool 20 times larger than we do. It kind of depressed me.

You know, last night, for the second time in less than a week, I dreamed that my family’s old dog was still alive. We put her to sleep almost two years ago, and I’ve dreamed about her from time to time. And now twice in one week.

And I think I know why.

I think it’s related to my recent glumness in the romance department.

Basically, I think it says a lot about my capacity for a relationship that other than a family member, the only being whom I’ve ever been able to love unconditionally is a dog.

Innit?