I turn to many different forms of voices in search for advice: Pintrest quotes, Bible verses I've found over time, and sometimes hour-long phone calls with Dad for the more serious stuff. As a 22 year-old who's just trying to gather a sense of who she is in this world, I find myself needing guidance more than ever. My most recent, yet much needed came from of all things, a Nancy Meyers' romantic comedy.

The Holiday, as cheesy and sappy as any love story can be, is a favorite between my mom and I over the years. Every time we finish the movie, she turns to me and concludes, "Sis, you've got to find your Jude Law!" I'm sure as many of you can agree, this idea is easier said than done. But it also puzzles me that with every time I watch this movie, or any other love story for that matter, I obsess over the idea of finding Mr. Right. I stress about not meeting someone whose shown that spark for me and how much longer do I have to wait as if I don't find Jude Law walking into my door right now or within the next few years, then I'm forever stuck with the Ben & Jerry's boys. Great ice cream, yes, but the love of my life? Not exactly what I imagined.

But I watched this movie a few nights ago in my apartment and caught a moment that I never paid attention to before. It was when Iris, an English journalist who's come to LA for the holidays, explains the story of her ex-boyfriend who she's still madly in love with to her new neighbor/famous movie director, Arthur Abbot:

Arthur : "So, he's a schmuck."

Iris: "As a matter of fact, he is... a huge schmuck. How did you know?"

Arthur : "He let you go. This is not a hard one to figure out. Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend."

At first, I felt that this whole "leading lady" idea was downright corny. Typical Rom/Com move to have a director say that this woman needs to act like the star in her own show. But Arthur has a point here, despite the fact that he's really just an actor reciting some screenwriter's clever line.

I had a similar situation a few years ago. I found myself in love with who I believed was "Mr. Right." He was smart, charming, attractive, funny: the whole package. If I could write down everything on paper, this guy got an A+ in boyfriend material. And the more I learned about him, my feelings grew. I thought, "He just HAS to be it. This guy is practically perfect in every way" (thanks Mary Poppins).

I started worrying how he saw me, making sure that I, too, was "Mrs. Right." Only that title entailed me worrying if I met his expectations, and I spent so many nights listening to sappy songs and surfing the web for articles like "How to Tell if a Guy Likes You" or "Things That Make You Irresistible." Soon these questions crammed my everyday thoughts: Am I pretty enough? Does he like my jokes? Why hasn't he asked me out since last week? What if he hates texting me? Does my presence make him happy?

I woke up and found myself cast in the role of the best friend.

"Best friend" isn't a bad role. I have so many individuals in my own life that do such a great job befriending me and supporting me in everything that I endure (the good, the bad, and even the downright ugly). But while it's one thing to be a best friend in someone else's life, you aren't suppose to take that role in your own. In fact, "Mr. Right" wouldn't allow it.

And it was when I was in this predicament that I watched this movie for the hundredth time and heard Arthur tell Iris to snap out of it and I sat up in my bed and went "AHA! That was my problem: I've got to be a leading lady!"

You see, I believe this person that I had convinced myself over numerous conversations, hangouts, and interactions is certainly "Mr. Right." But he wasn't right for me.

I forgot my self worth. I deserved more than someone who made me feel like I wasn't living up to their lead role. I forgot my own happiness. I needed someone who wanted to brighten up my own day as much as I wanted to for them. I forgot who I was. I craved someone who wanted to know who that woman was, too.

I forgot that in my life I am the only leading lady. Of course, this wasn't easy to come to terms with, and as much as I tried to deny this idea I'd created about him, I found myself falling more and more out of love. He didn't see the talent I had as a leading lady, and while my heart felt torn, my head knew I had to move on.

So, to the girl who finds herself crying at 2am in her best friend's arms about the boy who doesn't see her that way, or who waits next to her iPhone wondering why in the hell that boy hasn't responded, or who keeps telling herself, "He's going to come around and tell me how he feels sooner or later," I challenge you to re-evaluate this guy. Is this supposed "Mr. Right" making you feel like "Ms. Wrong," and if he is then you've got to walk away. Walk away from the sadness, the hurt, the confusion and go figure out what makes you a leading lady in your own life. These other men, let's call them "understudies" if you will, are just reasons to see what you're truly looking for in a "leading man" that compliments your Oscar-worthy role in life and who you don't want to

When you find inner happiness, when you find what you're good at, and when you start to understand your own place in this world then I promise the other things will fall into place. And the one who is "Mr. Right" is going to see that you're a leading lady without question and make sure that you know that! To him, you're without a doubt "Ms. Right."