About three weeks ago, I watched Swingers. Two weeks ago I watched Blue Valentine. This week I have a strong desire to punch love right in the weenus. These two films left me with some major problems with the whole concept of love, just in time for Valentines Day.
Let's break it down by film.
First we have Swingers, a movie about a guy who spends 95% of the film mooning over the break up with his ladylove, with whom he had been in a relationship with for the past six years. Then, in the last ten minutes, Chesty LaRue- aka Heather Graham- bats her big blue eyes at our main character and bam! His undying love is gone. His achy breaky heart is healed. And even though his ex calls to tell him she still loves him, it doesn't matter, because Chesty is definitely an upgrade, amiright?? Instead of feeling uplifted by the message that you can get over anyone, I felt rotten. Is the love of your life replaceable? Or is the message that he never really loved her, he just loved the misery of being broken up with? Either way, it doesn't look good for love, that when someone that has that much of a hold on a person is so easily forgotten in the blinding light of Heather Graham's marvelous
We run into a different scenario, but similar problem in Blue Valentine. For those of you who haven't seen it, I don't want to give anything away- I've only read one review of it, but I'm assuming they all give out the basic details- you're witnessing the dissolution of a relationship, intercut with scenes of them "falling in love". But did our tragic leads ever truly love one another? Or is love not that much different than lust- brief, weak and replaceable?
I mean, geez louise. I know it's a crap shoot and there's no way to prove that love is true- but doesn't it seem awful that you never really know for sure, unless someone call it quits? Because even if that person sticks around, it very well may be (and often is) for all the wrong reasons- they're attached to the security, they don't have the balls to tell you the truth, they're trying to prove something to themselves or someone else....
If it weren't for our friends and family, it would be almost impossible to believe love even exists. Because, like it or not, at some point all romantic love is conditional. Granted, not all love between friends and family is unquestionable- but it doesn't compare to the shaky pedestals we set our romantic partners on. We seem to be happy placing all our bets on faith that love between two people can exist. And faith is dangerous. Faith can be damaging. But it is also, in a way, courageous and one of the most beautiful and mysterious parts of our being. And whether we want to be complicated or not, our make up is unfortunately complex and dependent on those crap shoots. (I hope someone inserted a poop joke here while reading that.)
Of course, it could all just be nature's way of trying to preserve itself by creating a feeling to attach to procreation, but that law obviously doesn't work within every type of relationship.
Holy crap. Idea: Does homosexuality prove the existence of true romantic love?? Just think about it. What a marvelous notion...
Hey, look- I wasn't trying to rain on anyone's parade this Valentine's Day. I actually love this holiday, and I have been single for the majority of Vdays. What a great excuse to eat pink sugary food and drink fizzy alcohol and tell the people who are special to you how many levels of awesomeness they rock. Plus you get to craft with glitter and smell flowers or gather up your friends and celebrate your love of the day and each other by having an "anti"valentines party. My gorgeous and talented friend Nikki sums the beauty of this day on her blog, Grateful Sparrow, far more eloquently than I can.
What a great holiday*. I hope yours' is, without a doubt, the best yet.
*My apologies to anyone who is going through a break up during this holiday. You have my sympathy and understanding, because in that case, Valentine's day blows. This is where you have permission channel your over dramatic, honky bitch and take to the whiskey bottle whilst playing sad old country songs in your apartment- which, in a way, is quite a glorious way to celebrate the day as well. Happy Fuck This Shit Gimme Another Drink Don't Tell Me How I Feel Day to you, you magnificent, under appreciated gods and goddesses.