Romantic Comedies and Reality

After chasing Henry around the softball field and putting the kids to bed, after downing glass #1 of wine and eating two chunks of dark chocolate, I am now reclined with feet propped indulging further in one of my favorite romantic comedies, French Kiss, with Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline.

My favorite romantic comedies all have the same plot line.  Oh, they aren’t exactly the same of course. 

The leading actress is dating a guy other than the leading actor when the two meet in Serendipity, and the entire movie follows the push and pull of fate and destiny as they battle the doubts of their other engagements against the passionate, emotional love connection they felt with this other person they met once in a romantic scene with gloves and elevators until it comes right down to the wire and now this is IT, will he marry his fiancée or will he come to his senses and keep pursuing the dream of an unknown woman, who is also pursuing the dream of this mystery man?  Yes! Pursue the dream! There he is in the park in the middle of the ice skating pond and there's the glove! The end.

In While You Were Sleeping, Sandra Bullock has a crush on a stranger that passes through her toll booth every day until he nearly gets hit by a train, and due to rescuing him she meets his family and gradually falls in love with the guy’s brother, who, surprise surprise, is the person she ends up really wanting to be with, the better match, and in spite of the wild circumstances, surprise! He asks her to marry him by dropping an engagement ring into her token slot.   The end.

Both of the leading actresses in The Holiday were with guys that were not right for them before, and Kate Winslet is still crushing on her ex- who is engaged when she finally discovers an interest in Jack Black, who is also seeing a girl that isn’t quite right for him, but by the end of the movie (spoiler alert!) they all end up with people who bring out the best in them, who seem to like them for who they are.  "What are you doing for New Years Eve?" asks Jack Black, who then flies with Kate Winslet across the big blue to spend New Years with her and Cameron and Jude, who are also now awesome.  The end.

Or how about When Harry Met Sally, when Harry is with another girl the whole time and Sally is with another guy the whole time until the end when, whaaaaat they are actually really great together, they should be together, why aren't they together, get together already!  The end.

And in French Kiss, my favorite favorite romantic comedy, Meg Ryan is on the hunt to win back her fiancé from the French Goddess he met and suddenly fell in love with, but along the way she meets Kevin Kline who is not at all the kind of guy she ever expected to be with but then, surprise! "I want you.  That's all."  Oh, sigh.  L'amour.  The end.

Oh wait.  These are all the same plot lines, aren’t they?  Leading actresses who are with the wrong guy, leading actors who are with the wrong girl, leading actors and actresses who discover by the end of the movie that they love each other, actually, that the first relationship was good, sure, good enough in fact that most of the time the couples were ready to commit to a lifetime together, but now, well, it either wasn’t great, or it wasn't great enough or someone messed it up or now, this, this other person has taken them by surprise, they have touched the circuits that weren’t triggered with the first, and their compatibility is so much better than anything ever anticipated or experienced, and this is what they’ve been waiting for.  No more messing around with a ratchet set, trying to adjust the wheel of a wrench until it fits.  This one is it.

There's a reason this plot line works for me, though.  There's a reason we're crazy about these movies, these predictable yet entertaining comedies we can laugh at and cry through, and it isn't just because Meg Ryan is just the darned cutest person who ever starred in an eighties or nineties romantic comedy (Sleepless In Seattle, You've Got Mail, French Kiss, When Harry Met Sally).

I feel that hunt and pursuit for the person I thought was perfect for me, if I bent and twisted a certain way, and I feel even more the resolution, the discovery of a person who is actually quite more perfect for me.  It's been ten years (minus two days) since Brandon proposed to me on my college graduation day.  We did a lot of chasing before we met, kept running to some degree afterward, even, but finally I convinced him to marry me.  :)  Gratefully, that isn't the end.

The difference between reality and romantic comedies though, I think, is that it isn't that we've tried on these different people until we've found the perfect match.  It isn't that we've just collided with the wrong people and have to keep bouncing about until we form some kind of ionic chemical bond that is sure to keep us together with a better chemical composition.

I think it has more to do with being aware of the person you are, discovering the solid heartwood of ourselves that will not bend, that will not be worn away by time but will always serve as our core.  This is who I am.  This is what matters to me.  In real life, once we understand this heartwood and stop trying to whittle it away to take the shape of something else, or bend it like a bow, I think that's when we're best suited to find someone who is a good fit.  I think that's when we are ready to choose a life partner who is hopefully also a whole human being at home in their own skin, who also is ready to find someone that is compatible with him or her.

Maybe it's a surprise at first, this compatibility thing, and we say things like, "I never imagined myself with someone like him," with joy and delight we say, "we're so different but in all the right ways."

The unexpected joy of the real life romantic comedy comes later, when after these years of trial and temptation, these years of grief and sorrow and anger, these years of triumph and rejoicing, during the moments when they are both fully the best versions of themselves, she rests her head on his chest while they watch a show, he drapes his arm over her shoulder.  She knows herself.  He knows himself.  She knows him.  He knows her.  This familiarity and intimacy is security, rest, ease, trust, faith. Love.

When the show is over, he fills her water glass for her while she takes out her contacts and they climb the stairs, plug in their phone chargers for the night, turn off the lamps, and roll towards each other under the covers, bodies warm, and they sigh and embrace and laugh and kiss and love, and it is better than any "You... complete me," better than, "What are you doing for New Years Eve?", better than, "I want you. That's all."  Better.  Better and better and better.

The Hunger Games

Why is it that books about vampires, werewolves, and children killing children are so stinkin' popular these days?

Most of the time I am a nonfiction/poetry snob, I admit it, mostly because my job requires it.  Occasionally, I miss reading for fun, though, and I have several friends who eat up fiction, both YA and adult.  I also really like reading what is popular or what is making a splash so that I can give an educated opinion of it.  So, I gobbled up the vampire romance series Twilight.  And I finished The Hunger Games last night around 1 a.m. 

I was thoroughly entertained.  In both instances.  But if you ask me to describe what the books are about, I sound a little nuts. "Well, there are these good vampires who try to fit into society, and then there are these people who turn into werewolves when there are vampires around and they defend people against the bad vampires, but they have a truce with the good vampires.  And there's this girl who finds herself attracted to one of the good vampires, wants to become a vampire, and is friends with one of the werewolves."

Or, "Yeah, I really liked this book!  It's about children killing other children in a contest."

The popularity of these books says a lot about our culture, and I don't mean in a "those books are from the DEVIL" way.  The first-person narrator in Twilight and The Hunger Games is a strong, young, beautiful, courageous female who doesn't seem to know that she is strong, beautiful or courageous.  It's a Sammy Kershaw kind of "she don't know she's beautiful" thing that is exactly how we all want to be viewed - beautiful but not vain, attractive but not slutty, desired and adored. 

At the same time, there's a mysterious, kind, attractive male who is head over heels for the girl but she can't tell, doesn't believe, him, etc. even though he'd do anything to protect her or save her.  I know it is sappy, but I'm pretty sure I really want to be rescued most of the time, even though I might look like I want to be in control and take care of myself.  I buck against the damsel-in-distress idea because I know that I'm strong enough, but even though I am strong enough, sometimes I really just want to be taken care of, adored, and delighted in.  So love unrequited in novels like these speaks deeply into the desires of young girls and, let's face it, grown women who feel taken for granted, who don't feel desireable anymore, who miss being pursued, romanced, or wooed.

In both of these series, there's also the female character's conflict between two guys.  I don't know that this will surge up in the sequel to The Hunger Games, but it looks like it could do so.  The friend and the romantic interest, and oh, they both love her.  If we don't know the tension from being pulled by two desires out of our own personal experiences, we can feel the heartbreak and are moved by that conflict of emotion.

This is why we (women young and old) are drawn to these stories and why they are so insanely popular.  It isn't the vampires or the werewolves or the wizards or the dystopian society's crazy annual contest to kill off 23 children in order to keep the districts in line and obedient to a system (which is all very 1984 and Brave New World-ish); it's because our hearts are aching for this kind of adventure, desire, and passion.  We want to feel this kind of love.  We want to be protected and fought for. 

The authors of these books get that, and whether or not it is the most amazing writing doesn't matter - it's a good story that speaks to the heart desires of women everywhere.  Just like every romantic comedy, Harlequin romance, or Nicholas Sparks novel or movie.  The main character is just like me, a human with character flaws and passion, who finds herself loved, pursued, and desired by another. 

I've oversimplified the story line in both series.  There's actually a lot more going on in both books besides this theme, but my guess is that this theme is the one that the majority of readers are caught up in.  Including me.  Onward to Book Two!

Getting in Love

Our church is in its annual At the Movies summer series right now, and today the pastor spoke using the movie, The Vow.  I haven't seen the movie in its entirety but I'm sure that I'll like it, given the clips I saw this morning.  It's a romance; I might have to watch it with my girlfriends since I have visions of Sleepless in Seattle running through my head right now, the men in the room mocking our gushing.

During the first scene our pastor showed, when the couple first met, Lydia turned to me and whispered, "They are getting in love." 

"How can you tell?" I asked, smiling.

"Because they are spending time together?" she replied, a hint of a question tagged on to the end.

Lydia's love language must be quality time, like mine.  How does she know they are "getting in love"?  It's obvious; their actions show it.  They commit time to one another, they go to their favorite places, eat meals, make an effort to be together and to see one another, to demonstrate adoration no matter what it takes or what needs to be sacrificed.

I like the phrase "getting in love."  It's so much more purposeful than "falling," as if there's effort involved, as if it isn't just this casual slip over the cliff accidentally into love.  Because most of love is "getting into," not falling.  Relying only on the falling is sure to end flat on the pavement.  Falling is being sideswiped, tripped up, rearended, stumbling, a big "oops!" I fell in love.  Getting is taking weighted steps in the direction of love, measured movements in order to acquire love, in order to present it to another person.  I want to get some of that love, not fall for it, like I've been deceived or enticed by an advertisement of happiness.

This slightly relates to the great message given by David Sherwood this Sunday, in which he talked about how God is in the business of wooing and romancing us to love him, not coercing or tricking us into love.  His gifts of mercy, grace, and forgiveness are offers to get in love.  He has made us "free and wild, to be free and wild, so that we might be able to choose to love him."  That beautiful commitment, that vow to pour out unconditional love is an attempt to get our love back, to hear our simple whispered statement back, "I love you," that when spoken to another fills the heart to spilling over.

So stop falling in love.  Go get in love.

Kind of unorthodox for Sarah, but anyway...

I haven't been following the rules of one of the website's prompts, but today I wanted to catch up to my once-a-weekday, so I stopped by and found the prompt to write a poem whose first line or title begins All I want is... and then you need to fill in the blank. So I did.


All I Want is a Martini,


slim and light, a cherry bobbing
like romance in apple pucker,
its stem a curling finger.
Caramel lips the edge
of the glass, locks
sticky sweet, and I lick.

A sexy sip,
cool on my tongue,
then slow rain,
neckline kisses,
silken sheets.