Romantical Illusion

The Romantic Comedy has always been my favorite genre of movies. I think it’s safe to say that this has hindered me ultimately in my life’s quest to find that man for me. The ideal man. The man who will walk to the ends of the Earth and back for me; who’ll jump over the moon or dive deep into an icy ocean. The man who will do just about anything to ensure my happiness. Now, maybe it’s just me. Or maybe the movies have disillusioned, (brainwashed really), my mind; perhaps, common sense is dead in a certain part of my brain.

The thing is, my boyfriend is not that man in the movies. In a romantic comedy, no matter what, no matter how screwed up a guy can be, ultimately, he comes through in the end. He goes that extra mile to buy that one-of-a-kind silver and jade bracelet you can only find 60 countries away, or he cooks you that amazing meal after a big fight and wins you back with all the right things to say. At the end of a romantic comedy, the hero appears. He is that mumbling, fumbling screw up of a twenty-something-year-old male who gets it right in the end.

Now, what I want to know is, do I have to wait ’til the end of my love story for my man to become my hero? Though, that is not to say he isn’t.

But when you spend much of your young life drinking in every romantic movie you can possibly find, (and intentionally blocking out the ones that end tragically from your mind), it is kind of hard not to build up an image of a man who, in some way, acts and behaves as the heroes in romantic movies do. It’s as if we are all mentally storing actions and lines from these kinds of films-to all of which future actions and words spoken to us in real life will be measured. And from this we develop impossible standards we wish our own men could live by. And when they don’t, well, they’re just bad boyfriends.

At least, that has been my mentality in retrospect. I’ve spent so much time watching these movies, and believing the “reality” of a character, not questioning a mean-spirited man’s actions, because somehow his forgiveness speech compensates for it, and then, when my own boyfriend acts like a jerk, I expect a similar sappy testament. But, my conscience has grown so sick of my subconscious expecting some sort of award for myself simply for being a girlfriend whose boyfriend behaves like an idiot every other month or so. Because that only leads to self-pity, and when you start pitying yourself, you start wallowing, and then you begin to think about, “Oh how sad I am, and, how sad is this, and why does my boyfriend have to be such a jerk, and oh, Amanda’s boyfriend wouldn’t act like this.”

And then you begin to compare your boyfriend to the rest of the male population involved in romantic relationships-some imaginary bunch who somehow manage to do things differently from your own man, whom you decide do things the way they should be done, and your brain asks, “Why can’t Joe be like other boyfriends?” As if all other boyfriends say the right things and do the right things, and say the right things when they do the wrong things. And so your own boyfriend becomes this piece of specimen of an odd, diseased sort-broken and inferior to all others. Then, of course, you dwell on his imperfections and start picking apart every annoying thing about him. How could he possibly compete when your notion of an ideal boyfriend becomes your definition of a good boyfriend? It’s hard to remember they’re not the same sometimes.

And it’s not even about a lack of respect or some doubt that he doesn’t love me because the fact of the matter is, I have no question about how much he loves or respects me—even after the arguments that rattle me a bit.

It is just this insane level of standards and expectations I’ve been harboring perhaps since my very first romantic movie…Cinderella, maybe? (Maybe even earlier than that…) I’ve had many, many years to build up my perfect man. How could any man alive possibly measure up?

I think sometimes in our quest for the perfect lover, we forget that they are men, first and foremost. And it isn’t always about love, and it isn’t always about us-though romance movies tell us that it should be. “If your man really loves you, he will put you first,” I believe is a motto found in your typical ‘chick-flick.’ Or am I wrong here? Should our men always put us first? No matter the situation? I mean, at times, it seems that way. For example, if I wanted my man to choose between a night at home with me or a bar trip with the buddies, it seems pretty normal for me to assume he’d choose me. But, of course, that doesn’t make it right. I think what happens sometimes is that, within my mind, there is a path I follow, with little side roads branching off-a road full of things my boyfriend should do because I can swear I’ve witnessed it before, whether on TV or in the movies, or even in a public place-and everything on that path is the “right” thing to do, so when my boyfriend doesn’t do it, I just may blow a fuse.

The stereotypical exceptionally great lover perhaps derives from fairy tale stories, from happy endings that we attempt to find after every great upset, every spilled tear or idle word that cuts like a knife, and no matter how much our own “Prince Charming” may look like the one belonging to Cinderella, though we may identify the story as simply a fairy tale, somehow, we manage to still desire to have our “prince” be the ultimate romantic hero.

While I’ve been absorbing every bit of every romantic comedy throughout the years, I typically block out the films’ catastrophic events and conveniently forget the ones that end tragically, and manage to create my own fluff of celestial romantic experience. Needless to say, I rarely take the time to consider that only the “perfect boyfriend” will do and say all the right things. But in real life, it’s more a mix-and-match situation. A boyfriend may do some of the right things. But he’s going to do some wrong things, too. I have to remember that as much as I would sometimes like my boyfriend to do things the way other girls’ boyfriends have done, my boyfriend is who he is, and although he’s not perfect, when all is said and done, he will remain the man that I love.

Ultimately, I am a fool for love, and believing the “reality” of Hollywood cinema romances is…

…Oh so foolish…