The Perfect Man

Synopsis: Teenager Holly Hamilton is tired of moving every time her single mom Jean has another personal meltdown involving yet another second-rate guy. To distract her mother from her latest bad choice, Holly conceives the perfect plan for the perfect man.. an imaginary secret admirer who will romance Jean and boost her shaky self-esteem. When the virtual relationship takes off, Holly finds herself having to produce the suitor, borrowing her friend's charming and handsome Uncle Ben as the face behind the e-mails, notes and gifts. Holly must resort to increasingly desperate measures to keep the ruse alive and protect her mom's newfound happiness, almost missing the real perfect man when he does come along.
Director(s): Mark Rosman
Production: Universal Pictures
  2 wins & 3 nominations.
Rotten Tomatoes:
100 min

Holly, you've gotta open up.

I'm not so sure about this.

Come on open the door,

tough guy.


You look awesome. Turn.

I cannot believe

that you talked me

into going to the dance.

I thought you said

you've been to like,

a million schools.

Schools, a million.

Dances, zero.

I'll get it.


It's a simple matter

of self-preservation.

I mean,

when you move around a lot...

you just don't let yourself

get attached.

Much less, make plans

to go to school dances.

I hate to break it to you,

but in exactly one week...

your streak is

officially going to end.

Maybe you're right.


Come in.


We need to talk.



Why? How could you?


Wait, don't you "Jean" me.

Just calm down.

Please, calm down.

We can be civilized

about this.

I'll be right back.


Just calm down.

No, why are you

telling me this?

Are you in love with her?

She meant nothing to me.

Well, technically,

they meant nothing to me.



Look on the bright side.

It's out of my system.

Have a nice day.

Explain this

to me again.

Patsy's back.

It's packing time.

Does this mean you're

not going to the dance?

We'll be gone

by the end of the week.

I'll stay in touch.


I'll miss you.

Where are we going

this time?

There's a spot open

at Dolores' bakery.

You know, I've always

wanted to go there...

and you kids

will love Brooklyn.

It's time

for a new adventure and...

I'm sorry, honey.

I know you were finally

making some friends here.

It's no biggie.

There's friends everywhere.


Hey, all you bloggers.

It's me:
Girl on the Move.

Well, here's a big shocker.

My mom got her heart broken.


Yep, we're starting off

on another big adventure.

That's my mom's word

for running away.

"T- I-C" Tic.



Come on,

little Miss Mary Sunshine.

Play the game.

Give us a word

with "tic" in it.






Thank you.



It's genetic.

By some miracle...

my mom only got

one speeding ticket

the whole way.

It's Miss Jean Hamilton.

Are you married?

He should write her a ticket

for reckless flirting.


I will say one thing, though.

For those of you

who haven't done it yet...

put "Must see

New York skyline"...

on your list of things

to do before you die.

Oh, wow!

Oh, girls!

I bet it's full of

quaint details, pretty

moldings on the ceilings...

and old hardwood floors.

And charming little

rat droppings

in the breakfast nook.

How delightful.

Cut it out.

It's going to be perfect.

The sad thing is, I'm actually

getting good at this.

If all else fails,

I have a very

promising future...

as a professional mover.

Our new apartment has history

and character.

And exotic local wildlife.

My mom calls it home.

I call it the

Witness Relocation Program.

Mommy, look!

There it is.

I told you.

The same one

as in Wichita.

It still comes out

every night.

Even in hard times.

To remind us

that every day holds

the potential for beauty.

It's getting late,

and I'm wiped.

So, time to hit the sheets.

Even though I have no idea

which box they're in.

Keep reading

my on-line journal

for more days...

in the life

of a teenage gypsy.

I'll be here.

The same me,

just a different zip code.

No! That's it! I'm not going.

You go with him.


Check her out.

Hey, you.

Yeah, you.

How much your kicks

cost you?


I paid $50 for mine.



I pulled them

out of a garbage can

somewhere in Portland.

You win.

See you, freak.

Hey, you're new here?

Yeah, how'd you know?

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