January 12, 2018
The thing about movies, rom-coms in particular, is that they are dramatizations of break up and make up that almost never happen in real life (at least from what I’ve seen in my life and what my friends tell me about theirs). When will you ever, over the span of a couple weeks, maybe a month, find the love of your life then watch your fleeting relationship deteriorate in a very short amount of time, then somehow all parties are able to agree on some unanimous decision after a long two-hour period of rumination and the five stages of grief.
I might be saying this because I just watched a 2007 flick when Matthew Mcconaughey was still young and beautiful and the plot line was an iteration of all love stories I write and dreams I have for what might be a decent relationship. Or maybe because I’m currently in a rough spot (rough for me) with a friend in whom I think I have taken great interest, but he’s established his impeccable talent of not responding at just the right point in the conversation.
But in movies, it’s totally okay to go on a tirade about your feelings in public about how he has hurt you with his insensitive personality, yet you’re torn because somehow you know deep down you two are something really special. So what do you do? You let it torment you and disturb the peace in the coffee house while on a date you two made a tradition after about two weeks. It’s okay though because he’ll leave you for a couple hours, but eventually he’ll realize he was the one in error and both of you will come running back on a busy New York street to end on a sappy, tear-jerking “I’m sorry I was wrong the whole time” ultimate and inevitable resolution.
Don’t misunderstand me though—I love romantic comedies, especially ones set during high school. They’re cute and hilarious and they demand no extra energy for me to enjoy those precious moments because when the problems arise, I know they will figure it out without an ounce of my help, and I can live vicariously through the fabulous life of Samantha Baker and her adventure of winning over Jake Ryan. My high school career was rather dull and unproductive in many aspects, so these movies fill that void and build the foundation for an endless list of ‘what-if’s I could’ve experienced if I’d joined a sport or if I’d known how to dress properly or maybe if I’d taken those college credit classes instead of being surrounded by Neanderthals trying to get their “D” for diploma.
I’m not quite sure why I do this to myself. I don’t really have time for relationships (at least, that’s my go-to excuse), yet I foolishly imagine how different my life would be if I could have driven off in my dad’s ’65 powder blue Mustang with my Princeton boyfriend after graduating from high school. I have this habit of living out those fantastical lives then quickly remembering reality doesn’t play the game that way and settling with the fact that, even though they say life is what you make it, there will always be some awful fate waiting ahead that will make you grateful for not taking that first step.
I guess I just have a lot of ideas and random thoughts coursing through my mind at once that simply thinking about them expends all the energy I could’ve used on living out those ideas—but I’m fine with it.
For now, at least.