Foolishly Optimistic? Or Hopeless Romantic?

I’m starting to wonder whether my love of romantic comedies isn’t doing me, and other single girls around the world, irreparable harm.

Cause lets face it the following will never happen:

1. A young hot Prime Minister will never fall in love with me (his tea-lady) and track me down on Christmas Eve.  Mainly because I would never be a tea-lady.

2. A hot movie star will not walk into my store, and fall in love with me, giving me a priceless painting and declaring that they are only a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking him to love her.

3. A rich, handsome and intelligent Mr Darcy will not fall in love with my idiotic self, tracking me down at Christmas to tell me he loves me. I would also not chase him down the street in my leopard print knickers after a misunderstanding with a diary.  Mainly because I would not own leopard print knickers (I do love sexy undies, but as a lady prefer black lacy french knickers over your slutty animal print satin).  Likewise, he would not in a sequel, track me down in a Thai jail to rescue me from utter despair.

4. The male escort I paid $5,000 too to be my date at a relatives wedding would most likely not fall in love with me. They might shag me, but would most likely charge me at the end of it.

5. A journalist would not do a story about me being in 27 weddings, and then after a drunken Elton John sing-a-long fall madly in love with me. Probably because I don’t have 27 friends I could be bridesmaid for.

And yet, despite my realisation that they are not real life, I still, deep down, want to be swept off my feet in romantic-comedy fashion.  When you meet a boy in the pub who drunkenly tries to have a conversation with you its just not quite the same as Colin Firth telling you he like you very much, just the way you are.

But you know what. Despite trying to inject some realism into my life, I’ll never ever stop watching them.  Because, on the worst of days they make me smile.

“How Are You? What STILL Single?” “Oh Sod Off”

Recently I’ve attempted catching up with some people I have not seen in awhile, and their first question is always “Any boys” “Seeing anyone”.  Quiet frankly it makes me a little cross.

Whether or not I am seeing anyone is not an indication of my well-being, how I am doing, whether or not I am enjoying my job, how my writing or my course is going or if I am currently just a bit fat (well, this COULD be an indication as to why I’m not seeing anyone). 

My reply that indeed I am still single is always met with one of the following:

a) The right one will come along when you are not looking or
b) Plenty of fish in the sea, bla bla bla or
c) You better get a move on or all the good men are taken.

I don’t mean to sound so Bridget Jones-ish, but really must all the smug married people be so fricking patronising. Coming from a small town it seems your self worth is based on whether or not you are shacked up. 

The fact of the matter is, I can’t see myself staying in this supposedly idyllic (read dull) quiet coastal village for the rest of my life.  I am not done having adventures, and it would take someone extraordinary to deter me from this.  Yes it would be lovely to have someone to share these adventures with, but I’m just as happy with the companionship of my friends, and the company of myself.

And since my resolution to stop whoring around has left me thinking that perhaps finding a man should be a little higher up on my agenda (purely so I can relieve some of my daily frustrations in a more satisfying way), I am not going to go out of my way to achieve this.

I’ve managed to evade Mother’s continual requests for grandchildren by the addition of our adoring and affectionate Border Collie, if only I could do the same for my friends.

In Defence of Miss Jones

I quite enjoy the occasional difference in opinion, and marvel at how defensive I can be.  I think it must be the ginger genes!

The other day there was a semi-heated discussion in the tea room regarding whether or not romantic comedies,  in particular Bridget Jones Diary, are wonderful or ridiculous.

My opinion on this is - 

1. They provide us with some escapism from our world
2. You are guaranteed a happy ending, and likely to come out the other side with a warm fuzzy feeling that all is right with the world
3. It gives single girls the hope that no matter how ridiculous or hopeless you are, no matter how many nights you spend in oversized pjamas drunk and singing “All By Myself”, things always work out in the end
4. It also gives single girls hope that even though there are many Daniel Cleavers in the world.. The occasional Mr Darcy will come and rescue you from utter despair

Yes Bridget Jones is ridiculous, but she (in my opinion) is also real.  Perhaps because I relate to all the horrible mistakes that she has made.  Perhaps because I have had my fair share of Daniel Cleavers, the dastardly cads who like to prey on vulnerable, loving girls.  Perhaps because I know what it is like to have an embarrassing yet loving mother, the awkwardness of having slept with a co-worker and the disappointment of realising that life isn’t a fairytale and sometimes you don’t have anything to eat but cereal and cheese.  Who hasn’t been caught out “in the moment” wearing really really enormous knickers? Or pretending you know more than you do at work?  

And what I love most about Bridget is that despite the fact the she is really ridiculous and “feels like an idiot most of the time” someone loves her.  Just as she is.  Which is what this ridiculous Ginger is holding out for.  

So I ask you dear readers.. What is so wrong with having a whimsical story concluding in a happy ending? Absolutely nothing.