I have fallen in love exactly three times in my life. The first was when I was 10 years old and read the Flame and the Flower by Kathleen Woodiwess. I was swept away by the cocky and charming Captain Brandon Birmingham and his great and passionate love for the young and very innocent Heather Simmons, a women who he at their initial meeting mistakenly took for a prostitute and subsequently deflowered in a very forceful manner only to be later forced into a unwanted marriage with her so that their bastard child would have the security of his name and because he was a man of honor. At first treating her like a mere possession, chattel if you will, he assumed that her rape and pregnancy was a master plan she concocted while being kidnapped by his first mate; he eventually fell madly in love with her and realized that she was the women of his dreams and he couldn’t live with out her. Now with the blessing of hind sight, I have realized three very important things. 1-I most definitely should not have been reading this book at the very very impressionably age of 10. (Seriously I have no idea what my mother was thinking when she gave it to me. It was probably desperation. I was a vivacious reader and the only thing that makes any sense is that she had run out of things to give to me.) 2-this one book left a lasting impression very deep in my psyche as to what love and romance should look and feel like. And 3- I can say now that the two main characters in this book did not have a healthy relationship at all and it is something that I should most definitely not be comparing any past or future relationships with.
The second great love of my life was James Frazier, from Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. I was 22 years old and I remember quite vividly reading this book in one night, not wanting to put it down, for the fact that I was hanging on the every word of this gloriously manly man, a Scot from the 1790’s who is forced into a marriage to save one Clair Buechamp from a disgusting scoundrel in the English army who thinks she is a spy. She is actually a time traveler but that is neither here nor there. Obviously she is more than a little reluctant to the idea, but Jamie wins her heart with his incredibly charming and witty retorts, sarcastic barbs and his intense burning desire for her. At one point, in a very poignant part of the story he swears that she is safe, she has his name, his family, his clan and if necessary the protection of his body. And I melt. Who could resist a very glib and handsome man in a kilt who would offer the protection for his love with his very life if need be? This is obviously a rhetorical question.
The last and most recent love, was discovered about a year and half ago. Dean Winchester from Supernatural. I am using the term love here loosely because I haven’t quite decided if it’s actually love or just an intense lust for this man’s body. All I know is that for one hour every Thursday night I am glued to the television watching the hottest man alive save person after person from all manner of evil and unholy spectrals. Guns and holy water aren’t the only weapons in his arsenal. He come’s equipped to every battle with wit and sarcasm and his dashing good looks. In short the man is freakin hero, drives a car as hot as he is and his body is banging. Authors note-while writing this I have decided that I am in fact not actually in love with him, it’s more just unbridled lust but would be willing to drop the L bomb if it that’s what it took to get him into bed. Shameless….yes, I know.
I started to reflect on these past loves after reading, in one sitting I might add, Twilight. No need for further explanation, everyone is familiar with the phenomenon that is sweeping the nation and the panties of adolescent girls everywhere. Specifically it was a very short speech that Edward says to Bella, and I quote, “isn’t it supposed to be like this? The glory of first love, and all that. It’s incredible, isn’t it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures and experiencing it?”. He is absolutely right. There is a difference. Namely that, compared to all the books, the movies, and the love songs, well…its crap. Love, in real life, can never live up to how it’s portrayed in the books and movies. Which is why, save for a select handful, I don’t read house wife porn or watch the proverbial chick flicks. Because mostly they just piss me off.
These movies and books create unrealistic expectations as to what men should say and do for the women they love. In all honesty no man could live up to James Frazier or Captain Birmingham. No real man will every say the things they say, mean them, or at the very least say them, mean them and keep a strait face. I couldn’t. These movies feed upon the lonely, they feed upon those among us full of bitter and romantic angst. So for the most part, on a good day I realize all this and have the normal response, anger. Mostly that I have been suckered in and fallen prey, though very few times, to these fictional characters.
Now you might be thinking, seriously, what woman out there doesn’t know this? What woman alive isn’t able to watch The Notebook, or Casablanca, or read a harlequin romance and know that it’s not ever going to be this way? More than you think. And as much as it angers me, I sometimes, am one of them. Hence the three great loves. Sometimes in my darkest moments, which usually are occurring on Saturday nights when I’m alone, I will pick up my tattered and dog eared copy of Outlander and spend the hole night in bed with the one man who will never, ever let me down. Why do I do this? Because even though in the morning, I know that real life is nothing like how it is in the books, that no man will ever look me in the eye while holding me in an embrace of steel and profess his undying love for me, it gives me hope. I think it gives all of us single/unhappily married women hope. And while I know Prince Charming doesn’t exist, nor would I really want him to, ( I mean seriously in the light of day when things aren’t quite so all is lost and woe is me who wants Fabio in the kitchen day in and day out making pancakes in the shape of hearts and saying things like I drown in the sea that is your eyes, or my heart yearns for the touch of your lips against my chiseled and hairless body…sorry I digress) it’s still nice to think that some where, some man could come quite close to living up to the simplest of expectations and standards.
Perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps these books and movies do have some redeeming value after all. They show that we shouldn’t want the fantasy, we shouldn’t want a James like man coming home every night because fantasy’s are fake, that’s their nature. We should all know that something’s are better left to fantasy because the real thing is either better, or if anyone has ever had a bad sexual escapade acted out, it can be worse. We should all know, that fake, no matter how good it looks on paper in the morning isn’t real. And we should never settle for anything less.
The second great love of my life was James Frazier, from Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. I was 22 years old and I remember quite vividly reading this book in one night, not wanting to put it down, for the fact that I was hanging on the every word of this gloriously manly man, a Scot from the 1790’s who is forced into a marriage to save one Clair Buechamp from a disgusting scoundrel in the English army who thinks she is a spy. She is actually a time traveler but that is neither here nor there. Obviously she is more than a little reluctant to the idea, but Jamie wins her heart with his incredibly charming and witty retorts, sarcastic barbs and his intense burning desire for her. At one point, in a very poignant part of the story he swears that she is safe, she has his name, his family, his clan and if necessary the protection of his body. And I melt. Who could resist a very glib and handsome man in a kilt who would offer the protection for his love with his very life if need be? This is obviously a rhetorical question.
The last and most recent love, was discovered about a year and half ago. Dean Winchester from Supernatural. I am using the term love here loosely because I haven’t quite decided if it’s actually love or just an intense lust for this man’s body. All I know is that for one hour every Thursday night I am glued to the television watching the hottest man alive save person after person from all manner of evil and unholy spectrals. Guns and holy water aren’t the only weapons in his arsenal. He come’s equipped to every battle with wit and sarcasm and his dashing good looks. In short the man is freakin hero, drives a car as hot as he is and his body is banging. Authors note-while writing this I have decided that I am in fact not actually in love with him, it’s more just unbridled lust but would be willing to drop the L bomb if it that’s what it took to get him into bed. Shameless….yes, I know.
I started to reflect on these past loves after reading, in one sitting I might add, Twilight. No need for further explanation, everyone is familiar with the phenomenon that is sweeping the nation and the panties of adolescent girls everywhere. Specifically it was a very short speech that Edward says to Bella, and I quote, “isn’t it supposed to be like this? The glory of first love, and all that. It’s incredible, isn’t it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures and experiencing it?”. He is absolutely right. There is a difference. Namely that, compared to all the books, the movies, and the love songs, well…its crap. Love, in real life, can never live up to how it’s portrayed in the books and movies. Which is why, save for a select handful, I don’t read house wife porn or watch the proverbial chick flicks. Because mostly they just piss me off.
These movies and books create unrealistic expectations as to what men should say and do for the women they love. In all honesty no man could live up to James Frazier or Captain Birmingham. No real man will every say the things they say, mean them, or at the very least say them, mean them and keep a strait face. I couldn’t. These movies feed upon the lonely, they feed upon those among us full of bitter and romantic angst. So for the most part, on a good day I realize all this and have the normal response, anger. Mostly that I have been suckered in and fallen prey, though very few times, to these fictional characters.
Now you might be thinking, seriously, what woman out there doesn’t know this? What woman alive isn’t able to watch The Notebook, or Casablanca, or read a harlequin romance and know that it’s not ever going to be this way? More than you think. And as much as it angers me, I sometimes, am one of them. Hence the three great loves. Sometimes in my darkest moments, which usually are occurring on Saturday nights when I’m alone, I will pick up my tattered and dog eared copy of Outlander and spend the hole night in bed with the one man who will never, ever let me down. Why do I do this? Because even though in the morning, I know that real life is nothing like how it is in the books, that no man will ever look me in the eye while holding me in an embrace of steel and profess his undying love for me, it gives me hope. I think it gives all of us single/unhappily married women hope. And while I know Prince Charming doesn’t exist, nor would I really want him to, ( I mean seriously in the light of day when things aren’t quite so all is lost and woe is me who wants Fabio in the kitchen day in and day out making pancakes in the shape of hearts and saying things like I drown in the sea that is your eyes, or my heart yearns for the touch of your lips against my chiseled and hairless body…sorry I digress) it’s still nice to think that some where, some man could come quite close to living up to the simplest of expectations and standards.
Perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps these books and movies do have some redeeming value after all. They show that we shouldn’t want the fantasy, we shouldn’t want a James like man coming home every night because fantasy’s are fake, that’s their nature. We should all know that something’s are better left to fantasy because the real thing is either better, or if anyone has ever had a bad sexual escapade acted out, it can be worse. We should all know, that fake, no matter how good it looks on paper in the morning isn’t real. And we should never settle for anything less.
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