My Best Friend's Wedding: George and Julianne Dance (Julia Roberts & Rupert Everett Scene)

Hello, George. Hey, gorgeous. Having a good time? Not particularly, but I did what I came to do. What, you split them up? No, I said goodbye. Good girl. Proud of you. I'd be prouder still if you were dancing. I have big plans for dancing. Just give me 30, 35 years. Oh, the misery, the exquisite tragedy. The Susan Hayward of it all. I can just picture you there, sitting alone at your table in your lavender gown. Did I tell you my gown was lavender? Hair swept up. Haven't touched your cake. Probably drumming your fingernails on the white linen tablecloth. The way you do when you're really feeling down. I was even looking at those nails, thinking, God, I should have stopped in all my evil plotting to have that manicure. But it's too late now. George, I didn't tell you my dress was lavender. Suddenly, a familiar song. Then, you're off your chair in one exquisite movement. Wandering, searching. Sniffing the wind like a dappled deer. Has God heard your little prayer? Will Cinderella dance again? And then, suddenly, the crowds part. And there he is. Sleek, stylish, brilliant with charisma. Bizarrely, he's on the telephone. But then, so are you. And he comes towards you. The moves of a jungle cat. And although you quite correctly sense that he is, like most devastatingly handsome single men of his age, they are. You think, what the hell? Life goes on. Maybe there won't be marriage. There won't be sex. But by God, they'll be dancing.