I drank the RomCom Kool Aid

People who know me best know that I actually do remember events from way back in my childhood. I really do remember body bags on the tarmac from Vietnam, even though I was only 3 when the conflict "ended," and I remember seeing news footage of a scary man named Jim Jones in a town that I had never even heard of: Guyana. I remember his bad hairdo, the Elvis sunglasses, the white Fantasy Island suit he wore, but most of all I remember that from that day forward, Kool Aid took on a whole new meaning to me and society. Replaced were the images of the rotund Kool Aid pitcher breaking through walls singing songs; what replaced these images were hundreds of bodies, linked arm in arm, dead on the floors of huts, airfields, and open spaces.

As I grew up, however, the references to Kool Aid became somewhat diluted and became connected with any time a person joined a group by leaving logic and willpower behind. So when a friend "turned to the darkside" and became popular, she "drank the popular Kool Aid." When a friend quit band to join a sport, he "drank the sporto Kool Aid." Later in years when a former teaching colleague moved to administration, we said "she drank the Kool Aid." Even though the original intention of the Kool Aid reference was dire, I must admit that I still use the term for the latter purpose of demonstrating when someone has left logic and willpower behind, which is why I'm embarrassed to admit that since I was a child and into my adult years, I have drunk the RomCom Kool Aid. And life has never been the same since.

It started in 1978 with "Grease": who couldn't love a story about a cool high school where people partied, and danced, and sang....and fell in love with their "opposite." Danny and Sandy: the dream couple for almost everyone my age, especially those of us who were not "cool," who were the "Sandra Dees" of our time. We all wanted to be Sandy: to fall in love over the summer and then wind up with the guy...even if it meant changing who we were and abandoning reason. Then in 1980 came "Xanadu," a movie that now looks ridiculous, where a muse and a musician find each other across time and dimensions to fall in love. Sigh. As the years progressed, I continued to watch variations on the romantic comedy: "The Breakfast Club," "Say Anything," "Sixteen Candles," "St. Elmo's Fire," "Three Men and a Baby," "When Harry Met Sally," "Sleepless in Seattle," "Must Love Dogs," "Breakfast at Tiffany's," "An Affair to Remember," and hundreds of others. The stories were perfect. Fate brings together the girl/woman who is misunderstood, under-appreciated, shy, or just insecure with the boy/man of her dreams who is popular, cool, handsome, and perfect overall, and they live happily ever after as their odd lives and distinct personalities match perfectly, like romantic, destined puzzle pieces. Sigh.

Now, I'm a fairly intellectual, skeptical, and logical person, so how have I managed to be so affected by RomComs? Why can't I get beyond the stories I've seen? Shouldn't I know better? Here I am, approaching 40, and I'm still single. And part of me still actually believes that the perfect man is out there and that at some point in time, we will meet and hit it off. I deny this, of course, to the public, especially as a Woman's Studies professor, but secretly I still think that Harry can wind up with Sally, that Bender and Claire could work, that George Peppard and Audrey Hepburn were destined to have breakfast at Tiffany's.

A few months ago a study came out saying that romantic comedies set up unrealistic expectations for women, thus causing many women unhappiness in their relationships. As an academic I dismissed the idea in public, but at home I read the article and realized that it was true. Then a colleague of mine who is a psychologist lambasted the study, pointing out statistical errors, problems with the "control" and "subject" factors, and other weaknesses in the study's methodologies. I didn't discuss it with her because all I could think was, " of course you say that: you're with a man who would do anything for you and worships the ground you walk on." Did she never see "Grease" or "When Harry Met Sally" or any other RomComs? Was she indeed inoculated against the influence? I never asked: I didn't think she'd appreciate the challenge to her expertise.

So as I write this, I think about my friends. One friend I've had since middle school found her husband at work. She was a waitress, he a customer, and one day he left her a note with her tip and his phone number: that was 20 years ago and they are still together. One friend from high school got a new neighbor one day when she was a teenager: they've been married for 20 years now, too. Another friend from high school was in a sorority in college and involuntarily went to a dance at the brother frat. A guy pursued her, but she resisted: she was going to prove that she wasn't in college for her M.R.S. degree: they are together now for 20 years and have two great kids. One friend from college has been with her high school sweetheart now for 24 years, and they are quite a happy couple. How is it that some people's lives really do mirror the RomComs and others don't? Why do some Harrys wind up with Sallys while some of us can't meet the man who loves dogs?

I've since given up on RomComs: now the thought of them make me a bit queasy, and the commercials are quickly surfed by. I must admit that I agree with the studies that say RomComs can alter your view of reality and romance, but there must be more to it than that. But what?

All I know is that while cynicism is a powerful weapon, nothing seems to hold a candle to the power of the RomCom Kool Aid I drank for far too many years. Damn that Kool Aid: it tasted so good, but now feels so bad.