Chick Flicks, Romance, and Domesticity

So I'm sitting here listening to some of the best summer music ever recorded and wishing it were hot enough for it to be the late 60's and me in cutoff shorts washing a car. This weather and this era gets me down. Luckily I've been baking all day, so I have blonde brownies and mini cheesecakes to keep my company in my dumps.

I read Matt's blog for the first time in a while today, and his post from 21 August has given me food for thought. That and the fact that I watched my favorite chick flick ever today--My Best Friend's Wedding. For those of you who haven't seen it and care, I'm going to spoil it. You've been warned.

The reason I love this movie is that it's a chick flick that ends right. Julia Roberts plays this beautiful, crazy woman who suddenly decides she's in love with her (male) best friend when he tells her he's getting married four days before his wedding. She, of course, decides to stop the wedding, steal him back, and make him hers again. Hilarity ensues.

Now here comes the good part: He marries the other girl anyway. Despite all the significant looks and romantic moments, and despite the fact that he probably loves Ms. Roberts more deeply than his fiancee, he marries the other girl. Because she makes more sense. She loves him in a way that's not complicated and full of issues. She doesn't know him as well, and probably never will. But she doesn't have years of baggage, and she's only marginally crazy, and she just loves him.

In my mind, (and I know I've said this billions of times) love isn't a reason. It's a feeling. And the reason I'm so cynical about love is that I've built relationships on love alone and they have always blown up spectacularly in my face.

I never had one of those "falling in love" moments with R. I can pinpoint the moment when my attitude toward him changed from guy-I-will-never-date to guy-I-could-date-marry-and-make-babies-with, but that's a long story.

I'll tell it anyway: in high school I had two very close girl friends, J (who just got married) and Grace. Both of them were a year older than me, so they both went off to college my senior year of high school. Grace dropped out twice her freshman year due to hallucinations and other complications of schizophrenia. She then transferred the next year and dropped out of that college as well. She's been in and out of jobs and college ever since, dabbled in smoked or ingested drugs, and had a few relationships that were various degrees of bad for her.

One night I was over at R's with a friend, who was downstairs painting something, and I was trying to keep R from making a move. My phone rang--J. She was clearly upset, so I took the call, sitting on R's futon. (something I try not to do) Over the next half hour, it all came out; how Grace's hallucinations were back. How she was cutting again. How she couldn't sleep, and thus J couldn't sleep, because Grace has always called J with her troubles. How she was living with one man and sleeping with another who gave her acid. On and on and on while all I could do was listen and want to cry.

At some point, R picked up my head and laid it in his lap. And when I hung up, exhausted, and the whole story came spilling out, he played with my hair and listened. He didn't ask questions. He didn't offer solutions. He didn't judge, and he didn't diminish or overdramatize anything. He just listened.

I dislike Sex and the City for a lot of reasons, but one of them is that quote at the finale: that what we're supposed to look for is ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-eachother love. I don't want someone to become the center of my life. I want someone who can be my partner. Love like Carrie describes--it's flailing, sobbing, clutching, flashing red and purple love. For me, that's never enough. It sure feels great, but it doesn't last for me.

It has to be someone I love in the quiet sort of way. In the way where I know their quirks and they know mine, when I can tell their "duty" voice from their regular voice. When he knows not to invite me over for pina coladas because I hate coconut, and I know not to order pizza with mushrooms for a similar reason. When I'm comfortable excluding him from parts of my life (like J's wedding, for instance) because I know he'll be there when I get back. R doesn't add anything to my life. But with him, I feel there's a stronger foundation under everything I do.

Finally, I thought for a little bit about the phrase "hopeless romantic" today. Why isn't it "hopeful romantic"? Isn't that the truth, that you're hoping for someone to love and be loved by? You're not hopeless. You're finding and making romance in every corner of your life.