Romantic Comedies Make for Horrible Relationships
No, it did not take me 27 years to come to that conclusion. Though I will admit to just recently finding out it isn't spelled "duck tape," so that's not a bad guess.
Last summer, in attempts to get over my breakup and put myself out there, I gave a complete stranger my number for the first time. Upon texting me, iMessages put my email instead of my phone number at the top, to which he decided I had done something shady and he flipped out on me.
I know how women can give out fake numbers and
someone might be sensitive to that, but this was ridiculous.
It comes up every once in a while: “Shit
testing” as the internet likes to call it, where women intentionally reject a
man in order to see how much he truly cares about her. In my experience, rarely
do women consciously shit test in real life. Sure, you learn a lot about a guy
when you reject him, but it’s unlikely for a woman to say to herself, How can I tell him no in an awful way and
see if he sticks around? Honestly, I would be more annoyed he didn’t
respect my wishes or himself.
I know some bitchy, manipulative women, yet true-life
examples men describe as ‘shit testing’ is often more a girl being uncertain
about her feelings and reacting to the pressure to make a decision quickly.
Most women will say ‘no’ when she means ‘maybe’ because it is always, always
easier to change your mind to a yes
than from it, (and it’s highly likely ‘maybe’ will be received as a ‘yes’). In
these cases, persistence will not only do you wonders, it is flattering and
reassuring for the other person to say, “Your logical anxiety is less important
than our feelings.”
Is that the man’s job? No. You don’t have to
put up with wishy-washiness, cluelessness, or comfort her anxious resistance; I
only think dating would be a lot easier if we all offered each other some true
empathy and the benefit of the doubt rather than prematurely villainizing the
objects of our affections. (And I say that auto-biographically.)
Sometimes, of course, their perception of shit
testing is also just a gross delusion against rejection. “I have a boyfriend” is
either the truth or a lie, but in any case, it will never be a challenge. It
means no. She might change her mind (about lying to you or how important her
boyfriend is), not impossible, but this is where self-respect comes into play.
After my breakup, I also became extremely
easily triggered by romance and sexual images. The bad experience had
completely warped my view of these things and I struggled to feel any yearning
for love. It seemed like a false, shallow entity that meant nothing. Mostly, I
was hurt any time I saw men portrayed as feeling love and devotion; it all seemed
like such a lie, completely fake, about as real as vampires or resurrection.
Might as well as look forward to going to Middle Earth.
I started to more deeply understand why some
women hated the way that men were portrayed in romance—the backlash against Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey in particular. I have always defended these
novels, saying that fantasy does not always have to be healthy—fiction is a way
to toy with danger in a safe place—and women do not always need to be the
keepers of morality, as characters, readers, or authors. But in recent months I
would see these smug “Alpha Males” all over romance, these dehumanized guys who
dehumanized women, whose confidence came from condescension and “love” is
portrayed via possessiveness, and I couldn’t help but wish someone would knock
these assholes down a peg.
More and more I’ve been pulling out of my
depression and being able to enjoy things again. Just recently I’ve started to
watch romantic comedies after about two years of not being able to stand the
stuff, and I have to say how things have changed.
Not only do the guys smug smiles grate on me a
little more, but the woman are deranged and shockingly callous.
I watched Failure
to Launch, a sometimes funny, sometimes painful chick flick about a woman
whose job is to help older men move out of their parents’ house by improving
their confidence with the love of an attractive woman.
The morality was questionable on all accounts.
The male hero was a man-child, having problems
with intimacy. He would bring the women who were getting too close home to convince
them to break up with him. Unable to tell a hot girl he loved her or commit, he
was the quintessential “guy.”
The female protagonist was a perfectly
calculated control freak who would use a formula to pick up guys, help them
feel better about themselves until they moved out, and then… I don’t know.
Break up with them somehow. All without having sex with them. She lied about
who she was, played mind-games, and was the quintessential “girl.”
I enjoyed watching it. Not that I was paying
extensive attention (I like to have background noise when I’m drawing). But I
did remember thinking, “These people are supposed to be romantic?”
There’s a lot of lying in chick flicks. Lots of
mind games. Lots of working to change the other. The man is always incompetent in
some form, the lady always superwoman. I don’t care what people say about Fifty Shades of Gray: Rich successful, perfectly
groomed, “good-looking” guys tend to be the shitty boyfriend in most films. It retains our
current atmosphere’s attitude—ambition and effort or for evil advisors.
You want to be the hero? You sit there until
someone informs you of your greatness. Then they will push you, but you do not
try to be anything more than you are now—you might just be ordinary, after all.
I can’t say that I’d ever want the love
portrayed in romance. It all seems to be thoroughly toxic, selfish, and
competitive.
Strange, being that my argument why everyone
loved Harley Quinn—the female counterpart to Batman’s the Joker—while dismissing
all the other female counterparts in superhero comics, was due to the
unhealthiness of its relationship; Joker does not have to change when in a
relationship because he doesn’t care about Harley one bit. Her flawed obsession
with a sadistic asshole is part of her charm. It’s the flaws that make their
story so interesting.
Of course, few of the writers attempt to pass
it off as moral or idealistic—though some certainly try.
How do you write a love story in which the
people aren’t exhibited humongous red flags of sadism, narcissism, or even just
problematic immaturity that’s not incredibly boring to watch?
Well, that’s simple enough. Don’t make the
conflict the love story. But then it wouldn’t be romance, would it?
I love “Fitzsimmons” from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., two flawed but loveable side characters,
Fitz and Simmons, who truly connect with each other in each line. But the
writers had trouble pairing them off, trying to make Fitz go for the
silver-spooned “Skye” first despite a complete lack of chemistry. Neither of
those characters are the plastically attractive, perfect save for one inconspicuous
flaw types that Hollywood deems worthy of a true love story, and that’s what
makes it great.
When I wrote the manuscript, The Dying Breed, I considered it a
romance novel with sci-fi elements. About halfway through, I very much realized
it wasn’t. As time went on, going through more and more drafts, the characters’
relationship grew less idolized and more real. I wrote it in five months four
years ago, and it’s only now that I look back on that I see how typical their
arguments are—despite fleeing from the hordes of bounty hunters in a dead
landscape.
Currently, I’m still working on a piece
temporarily called The Plane in which
not only were the two main characters, Soel and Sanya, not supposed to be
romantically entangled, I went out of my way to make it so. Yet something about
them clicked, and without my permission, it was clear they had a natural
chemistry upon their first meeting:
“It is there I will need you to
travel into the middle of the rainforest to the largest conglomeration of the
locals and retrieve something from their temple. Something no Station man has
yet achieved.”
“Retrieve ‘something,’ huh? Like
drugs?” Sanya asked. “Cheap hooker? Patent infringement?”
But Soel focused on other things.
“Somethin’ Station man hasn’t done? And y’r sendin’ us? I don’t know if a’yone’s
told y’, but you don’t got the most socially talented people here.”
Sanya shook her head in agreement: you don’t.
The more I allow them to develop their
relationship at their will, the more their sarcasm and antisocial behaviors
brought them together against the rest of the world. In short time, they
organically became a team. Neither of them deny their feelings, they just don’t
talk about it much.
“Don’t listen to
him, Soel. It’s sexy.”
“Buzz off.”
She grinned. “You need to learn to
take a compliment.”
“I’m sure t’won’t come up again.”
Their relationship lacks the typical conflict and possessiveness
that marks the sensual arousal of the romance novels, the yearning that people
have for being truly wanted. Good thing too as The Plane was never intended to be about love, but I suppose stick
two people in a small aircraft together…
I still begrudge the lack of romanticism—and I
don’t just mean love—in my works, enjoying a good will-they-won’t-they plot,
but I’ll admit there’s something nice about seeing people actually appreciate
each other’s presence. As much as I’d like for a passion for the ages, there’s
something to be said for seeing characters in long term relationships that work
on a more feasible level.
In truth, I am jealous of my characters’ bonds at
times. Sure, they might be clinically depressed, alcoholics, wanted criminals,
and brainwashed cult members, but they do have each other, and there is a
certain level of loyalty to one another that I can’t help but be proud of.
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