I have never been a romantic comedy girl. In 9th grade, Natural Born Killers was my favorite movie. I can still recite it. After that, indie character studies and documentaries became my go-to types. I refused to watch the Notebook. It took years and a handful of guys telling me “no for real, this one’s good” for me to finally watch.
Yet during the Rom-Com stage, I devoured every Meg Ryan, Sandra Bullock, Julia Roberts, Katherine Heigl, Jennifer Lopez-starring nonsense I could get my hands on.
Falling in love in three days?
Yup, totally possible.
Last minute chases where hot guys steal mopeds or run through airports to boldly declare their love in sappy monologues in front of hushed onlookers so the heroine, taken completely by surprise, can swoon with dewy tear-filled eyes?
Sign. Me. Up.
I even found the unintentionally romantic movies exceptionally romantic.
Anyone else cry at the end of Zack and Miri Make a Porno?
No, just me in my Rom-Com Stage.
I still can’t get through the first 15 minutes of Up. I have no idea what that movie is about. I started watching The Bachelor and The Bachelorette during this time.
But as I said before, one would have to suspend disbelief for a long time for the Rom-Com stage to last. Eventually, reality, statistics, evidence, experience and logic come crashing down in your lap and you realize that men don’t typically run through airports to recite monologues to you. And you realize that every Rom-Com is about how the couple meets, but no Rom-Com dares show you what happens seven years later because you know what happens seven years later and it sucks and that’s when the next stage hits.