Monday, March 5, 2012

all you ever wanted.

Confession. I have an addiction. A serious one. Rom-coms. There, I said it. There's no shame...maybe a little. It's not my fault-- blame my mother. She's the one who let me watch Steel Magnolias at the age of nine. I was raised on Julia Roberts movies. I worshipped her. Don't even get me started on Disney Princesses, that's a whole other post. Now you might be thinking: "What's the problem? I like rom-coms too". Well my friend, I have been thinking about it for awhile now, and there has been some serious revelations. Recently, the surge in the availability of porn has been linked to unreal expectations about sexual relationships. Porn is becoming more extreme in its portrayal of sex, and how people are supposed to have it. It seems to me that romantic comedies are like porn for (some) women.  Romantic comedies are extreme in their portrayal of love, and how its supposed to happen. We grow up believing in order to find true love there will be hoops, hurdles, car chases, and at least one makeover. From personal experience, if a man doesn't chase my taxi down to get my phone number, or send a dozen red roses to my workplace, I start to think he isn't interested. In fact I've been insulted when a guy gave me his number, instead of asking for mine. At some point, it would appear, I was brainwashed into thinking that all men share the chivalrous instincts of my favourite silver screen heros. You might be wondering how that's working out. It's not. I'll never find anyone if I expect some monumental declaration of love in the airport every time I return from a trip abroad. We don't think it's fair for men to compare us to the women in porn, so why do we compare them to the men in these movies? It might be a little late for a New Years Resolution, but I'm going to make a conscious effort to be realistic in my dealings with the other sex this year. I think the results will probably be better than holding out for Richard Gere in a white limo, blasting opera while holding roses out the sunroof. At the very least I won't be a prostitute. xx.