Warning: A non-numeric value encountered in /home/awkward9/public_html/wp-content/themes/Builder-Cohen/lib/builder-core/lib/layout-engine/modules/class-layout-module.php on line 505

My Not-So-Perfect Relationship with Romantic Fiction

Though I like to present myself as the type of girl who dwells in science fiction and adventure, I have a confession to make: much of my fictional intake involves romance. Shocking, I know! Not “romance novels” per se, that genre has always grated on me. But give me a good YA (young adult) rom-com, a dystopian boy-meets-girl, a beach or Christmas read, a gothic romance, a black and white musical, or a teen angst drama and I’m there. 

This Christmas season alone had me driving to Hollywood to watch “The Holiday” with my sis and an old flatmate on a rooftop (#dumbledamn), then Pasadena for “Love Actually” with my mum in an odd heritage center with Victorian buildings. I’ve consumed both “White Christmas” and “Holiday Inn” and plan on watching many other Christmastime classics which all seem to feature romance.

I like to think my tastes run a little more high brow than Hallmark-type movies, but in the past few years, on occasion, I have been known to fire one of these up and thoroughly enjoy it. Usually alone. With wine.

My reading in the past few weeks has also reflected this bent toward romantic threads. I just finished Sophie Kinsella’s “My (Not So) Perfect Life” to cleanse my palate from the disappointing “Twelve Days of Dash & Lily.” Now much of my reading this year has not focused on romance, it may have been a subplot, but wasn’t the main story line. Still, at this time of year, after some more heavy reads, I’m all about the fun, light happily-ever-after.

Two of my absolute favorite viewing experiences this year were “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” which I’ve already watched twice on Netflix, and “Crazy Rich Asians,” which I saw opening weekend.

So how on earth do I, a perpetual spinster, enjoy delving into these fictional realms? Don’t they stir me up into a frenzy of discontentment, lust, and bitterness? Doesn’t my usually cynical brain find them immature and frustratingly unattainable? Wouldn’t it be better for me to avoid them like the plague?

The answer to these questions is “Sometimes yes, and sometimes no.”

There have been times in my life when watching a rom-com or reading a YA romance would increase my dissatisfaction with my single lot in life. I would have to check my heart after a reading or viewing and make sure my view of myself and my life was in line with God’s view of it. And sometimes it was better to avoid such plots completely, thus my passionate love of “Die Hard” as a Christmas go-to. That bromance between John McClane and Sergeant Al Powell is better than most love stories. At this point in my life, where I have come to find true contentment and deep meaning in my singleness, I seem to be able to enjoy the fantasy of it all with no problems. Yes, I’d still someday like to experience a tiny piece of that kind of romance myself, but I trust God’s plan for me. I know if it never happens, that his plan is even better.

My cynical brain may actually help me to enjoy this type of fiction because I realize much of it is fantastical. I’m not sitting there reading these novels or watching these films thinking how perfect it all looks. I’m more likely to be giggling to myself as I realize how preposterous it all is. I can enjoy it like a fantasy novel, a made up realm where things work differently than here on earth. I’m 40. Most of my friends and family are or have been married. I’m a counselor. I’ve walked through enough broken, complicated, or just real relationships with people to know how much work goes into a lasting romance.

Actually, I’ve found that sustained singleness seems to be the most difficult for my optimistic, idealistic friends. I have an acquaintance, a man in his early 40’s, who is still horribly brokenhearted that he has yet to meet and marry his One True Love. And yes, once again, I too would like that to be a reality for me, but I don’t think it is or will be and have come (mostly) to terms with this. Because of our perspectives, romances are difficult for him to enjoy without coming away depressed and despairing. For me, these days, I come away smiling, having enjoyed the story, or laughing because I thought it was rather stupid after all.

So this holiday season, while I plan to indulge in a few more Christmasy romances (a reread of the fabulous gothic romance, “Rebecca” by Daphne du Maurier, is up next for my book club), what will you be reading and/or watching? Write a note in the comments telling me about your relationship to romantic fiction.