Love and Other Strangers

I went to see Valentine's Day today. I love Garry Marshall movies. They sing to my romantic heart. I believe in movie romance--happily ever after and love conquers all. Of course, in a Garry Marshall movie, the right people always get together, which is not always certain in real life. I walked out of the theatre today wanting to fall in love. Thank you Garry Marshall.

Trouble is that I'm not good at romantic love. I'm a great friend, a good parent, a passable mentor, those loves require only opening my heart. In these loving relationships, you can protect some part of yourself. For romantic love one needs to be totally vulnerable--sex sees to that. Friends can trod on your heart and bruise it. A lover can actually break it. Been there, done that.

I think my problem is that I've never been able to do recreational sex. You know the kind I mean--where everyone knows from the beginning that there is no attachment, only physical attraction. Recreational sex requires body confidence. As a fat girl, I've never had that. No one gets to see my avoirdupois by chance. I don't believe even my mother has seen me naked since I was old enough to dress myself. At any rate, I have to know that the person I'm undressing with loves me before I take my clothes off. But recreational sex allows you to become less attached to and more comfortable with the act, which takes some of the pressure off falling in love.

Okay that's glib. I guess the reality is a little more complicated. Beyond body inhibitions, I'm old fashioned about sex. I believe that it is the natural extension of a loving relationship. Sex for me is not just a recreational activity. It's a commitment from one loving heart to another. And that's where movie romance lets you down.

Movies almost never show the morning after you have sex for the first time. They almost never explore the anxiety, the questioning. Was it good for him? Will he respect me? Will he call me again? Did he hate my body? Blah, blah, blah. All that sixteen year old stuff that creeps in no matter how old you are. Movies don't talk about the hard work that it takes to maintain relationships. They don't teach you how to argue, how to compromise, how to overcome problems. Movie romances rarely have problems and if they do, they solve them in one hour and thirty minutes give or take a few minutes. Real life should be so easy!

I was in love once. I expected the romantic comedy my soul longed for. Instead, I got a screwball comedy that left no one laughing and me crying. I don't wish I hadn't experienced it. It did have some positive points, but it soured me for ever having another romance. I'm not a good man picker and, at 61, I'm probably beyond the romancing age.

But I still love romantic movies. I still cry when the boy and girl get together. I still believe in love and I still believe love can last. As long as my heart continues to beat, I will be a hopeful romantic loving the idea of being in love.