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| Oh, Kate Hudson... You make me believe love is for real and always starts with a dare (or bet, or article assignment). |
When I think about this shameful love (in times where I am painfully aware of my sad, sad life) I realize it's because romantic comedies are often simple to figure out.
We (and by we I mean anyone who's seen at least two of these) all know who the protagonist is going to end up with (spoiler alert: It's usually someone she hates at first sight).
If this were true, I'd end up with one of the many douchebags I know.
... And I'm not in the mood to deal with that kind of shit.
However, we all love our Mr. Darcys (thanks, Ms. Austen) and even our Mr. Rochesters (oh, Charlotte Brontë). These two characters, in particular, have created my love for arrogant, self-absorbed, assholes with a seemingly soft spot.
Enter a parade of all the boys I've liked and dated.
Sure, they all had their redeeming qualities, but if they were right, wouldn't have they lasted, or is it that I'm just not leading lady material?
From today on, I hope to stop living like my life is a romantic comedy and being surprised when the assholes in my life don't suddenly convert to the perfect boyfriend. The facade of the "changed man" lasts about three months (or less), in my experience.
When all is said and done, why don't they make more romantic comedies of what happens after the wedding? Or is that just reserved for a tear-jerker?
Ah, the questions of life.
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