Romance, schmo-mance
Hey, so I just remembered that I have a LiveJournal. Or rather, for the first time in a long while I have something to say that takes up more than 140 characters. #thankyoutwitter
One of the things I like about fiction (whether we're talking books, music or movies) is that it can reveal things to us about ourselves thereby increasing our awareness of how we view the world.
I own the movie Becoming Jane. I love this movie. It stars Anne Hathaway and James McAvoy, and it's the (embellished) story of how Jane Austen became the person who authored those very popular Regency novels: Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, etc.
Now the funny thing is, that as much as I enjoy a *good* romance in my head, in real life, I'm one of the least romantic people I know regarding relationships. Seriously, romance writers would slit their wrists at having to deal with me as a character.
*I don't believe in the fantasy of "The One"
*I don't believe in love at first sight
*I'm pretty sure I don't believe in happily ever after
My view of relationships is that you take a look at your strengths and weaknesses and the strengths and weaknesses of the object of your interest. And then you ask yourself "Would this person be good for me?" "Would I be good for this person?" (Also the should-be-more-obvious-than-it-frequently-is question of "Is this person actually available?")
Returning back to the point - in the movie, Jane spurns the advances and eventual marriage proposal of one Mr. Wisley even after it's become apparent that the storybook romance she was hoping for with Tom Lefroy isn't going to happen. Now it's pretty obvious to the viewer that Mr. Wisley is not just choosing a suitable wife, but is actually head over heels in love with Jane. Jane, however, explains away her refusal of him by saying that Mr. Wisley is a booby and the she wants passion, not affection in a relationship.
And this has bothered me. It rankled me. I didn't understand why she wouldn't accept him; he seemed like such a nice guy. He would treat her like a queen. He didn't ask her to give up her writing for him. He didn't care about her foray into social pariah-hood (an elopement reconsidered). Why then?
Then I looked at her family. Jane was loved, well-loved. Her family was close-knit and affectionate. She was the apple of her father's eye. She had affection. When it came to a relationship, she wanted more.
Then I looked at my family. I was invisible, neglected. My mom did the best she could, but she was only one person. With a son that has ADHD up the wall, a daughter with moderate ADHD and another daughter who was *always* clamoring for attention, there was only so much she could do to remember to pay attention to the quiet one. I can't tell you the number of times she forgot to pick me up from this or that place. My father was not in the picture. So when it came to a relationship, I was looked no further than attention and affection.
Jane ended up a spinster because of her uncompromising desire for passion (and the elopement scandal). I got married and revel in the attentions and affections of my husband.
Am I missing out? Doubtful. But then, to me, passion can be fleeting; love is an action verb.
One of the things I like about fiction (whether we're talking books, music or movies) is that it can reveal things to us about ourselves thereby increasing our awareness of how we view the world.
I own the movie Becoming Jane. I love this movie. It stars Anne Hathaway and James McAvoy, and it's the (embellished) story of how Jane Austen became the person who authored those very popular Regency novels: Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, etc.
Now the funny thing is, that as much as I enjoy a *good* romance in my head, in real life, I'm one of the least romantic people I know regarding relationships. Seriously, romance writers would slit their wrists at having to deal with me as a character.
*I don't believe in the fantasy of "The One"
*I don't believe in love at first sight
*I'm pretty sure I don't believe in happily ever after
My view of relationships is that you take a look at your strengths and weaknesses and the strengths and weaknesses of the object of your interest. And then you ask yourself "Would this person be good for me?" "Would I be good for this person?" (Also the should-be-more-obvious-than-it-frequently-is question of "Is this person actually available?")
Returning back to the point - in the movie, Jane spurns the advances and eventual marriage proposal of one Mr. Wisley even after it's become apparent that the storybook romance she was hoping for with Tom Lefroy isn't going to happen. Now it's pretty obvious to the viewer that Mr. Wisley is not just choosing a suitable wife, but is actually head over heels in love with Jane. Jane, however, explains away her refusal of him by saying that Mr. Wisley is a booby and the she wants passion, not affection in a relationship.
And this has bothered me. It rankled me. I didn't understand why she wouldn't accept him; he seemed like such a nice guy. He would treat her like a queen. He didn't ask her to give up her writing for him. He didn't care about her foray into social pariah-hood (an elopement reconsidered). Why then?
Then I looked at her family. Jane was loved, well-loved. Her family was close-knit and affectionate. She was the apple of her father's eye. She had affection. When it came to a relationship, she wanted more.
Then I looked at my family. I was invisible, neglected. My mom did the best she could, but she was only one person. With a son that has ADHD up the wall, a daughter with moderate ADHD and another daughter who was *always* clamoring for attention, there was only so much she could do to remember to pay attention to the quiet one. I can't tell you the number of times she forgot to pick me up from this or that place. My father was not in the picture. So when it came to a relationship, I was looked no further than attention and affection.
Jane ended up a spinster because of her uncompromising desire for passion (and the elopement scandal). I got married and revel in the attentions and affections of my husband.
Am I missing out? Doubtful. But then, to me, passion can be fleeting; love is an action verb.