In a desperate attempt to sweep up the messy lives of the characters in the book I was reading, I spent most of my Saturday morning rushing to finish the final hundred pages of Kate Eberlen's "Miss You."
Perhaps I got too emotionally invested in the main characters, Tess and Gus — who don't meet until the end of the novel — because, by page 400, I realized how I had internalized all of their poor decisions and tragic turning points. I think my stress eating of chocolate chips as I sped through each page should have been an indicator, but I was too immersed in Tess and Gus's drama to notice.
As I read, I was made utterly despondent by the unrelenting stream of failed relationships both characters suffered through before finally marrying each other at the very end. Sorry… Spoiler alert. Maybe I should have led with that?
Regardless, these characters cheated and were cheated on; they were bored by simple relationships and broken by the passionate ones; they watched their parents fail to love each other successfully and then failed when it was their turn; they felt hopeless when they tried to date while in their thirties; and then they were jaded when they finally met each other.
Thankfully, Eberlen spared our hearts the misery of watching another one of their relationships fail and she gave them the happily ever after we all pray for. But, my goodness. I was their misery's company up until those final, resolution-bringing pages.
And so now I'm left fearful that this is a reality I haven't prepared for. Are all relationships doomed, at least in some way?
Marry the passionate man and he'll become disinterested. Marry the sweet, simple man and you'll be the disinterested one. Marry the one working long hours and he will probably cheat. Marry whoever you can find once you're thirty because, gosh, you don't want to be an old maid. Marry someone, anyone because y'all will be unhappy regardless; Why put so much thought into it when it will suck in the end no matter what?
See? I definitely internalized Tess and Gus' experiences way too much. But this isn't the only place I have noticed this same hopeless message being communicated.
Nowadays, it's pretty common for love songs to be about toxic, heartbreaking, unhealthy relationships — think of Lorde, Taylor Swift, Bruno Mars, Halsey, Camila Cabello, Justin Bieber, Demi Lovato or any of those pals from 1D.
On top of that, it's common for movies to feature two characters who do nothing but rip each other to pieces but their chemistry keeps bringing them together, like flies to a light. A lot of the examples that come to my mind are based on books — The Great Gatsby, Anna Karenina, and even Twilight.
Now what about TV show relationships? I am a big fan of shows like New Girl and Friends, but if I focus in on the emotional sagas of Nick and Jess, Schmidt and CeCe, Ross and Rachel and even that whole Richard, Chandler, Monica situation, I can't help but believe that it's not right unless it's hard.
However, there's this part of me that can't accept that as truth. I refuse to believe that the right relationship is the one that hurts.
In fact, from the real-life examples I see, the relationships that actually last tend to be the ones that glow with love and patience. My friends are getting engaged to men that treat them well and care for them kindly. My cousins are marrying people who make them smile and laugh. My coworkers are telling me stories of their significant others' thoughtfulness or compassion.
So, I'm starting to think, despite the fact that the high drama, high-caliber heartbreak of entertainment media definitely sells more seats at a concert, movie tickets and Netflix subscriptions, that is not actually love at all.
These examples we see of shame-filled stories and broken hope is not the standard to strive for. We do not need to imitate the struggle for "true love" that we see in pop-culture.
Instead, we need to look closer at those around us. We need to ask our grandparents how they stayed married for so long. We need to talk to our engaged friends about dating and, in turn, make sure they're talking to someone who's married about the next step.
We need to take notes from those who are actually getting A's in class, not from those who spend a two-hour feature presentation breaking someone else's heart.
I suppose my whole point seems rather obvious, but I fear it might not be something anyone consciously recognizes while listening to Swift's "Look What You Made Me Do" or while watching Rachel write out her 18-page letter.
These over-dramatizations only serve to entertain. And that's fine, as long as we don't forget that real life should almost always look different than entertainment. I don't know about you, but I think that's quite a good thing.
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