Confessions of a Rom-Com Lover

I love Rom-Coms. Yes, me. For those that know me, this may be a tad bit hard to believe, but I really do enjoy rom-coms. Yes, even really horrible ones. Like the one I watched tonight - Confessions of a Shopaholic.

The whole premise of the movie is about a journalist (picture Legally Blonde, but with an IQ about 10 points higher) who is in a load of debt. Becks wants to write for a fashion magazine, but instead gets a job at a sister magazine, one about finance. The way she got the job - a tequila fueled letter to the editor, which she meant to send to the fashion magazine editor but instead, mixed up the addressed envelopes in a alcohol induced screw up. Turns out, the financial editor really liked her "new spin on things" and the "girl in the green scarf" became a hit throughout the magazine industry. Basically, things catch up to Becks, but in the end, she pays her debt, learns a valuable lesson, patches things up with everyone who she alienated through her lies, gets back at the bitchy glamor girl, and wins the extremely dashing man with a British accent's affection. All wrapped up in a neat 1 hour and 44 minutes.

And I loved it.

Even though it was completely ridiculous and implausible.

Which is why I enjoy watching rom-coms only alone, or with other rom-com lovers.

I like how everyone's life always turns out well, even in the most dire circumstances. I like how reality doesn't really matter. I love the ridiculousness of the entire plot. Rom-coms stay true to themselves. Usually when I'm watching a movie, I pick apart every detail, question all plot holes, and pay attention to details - like in the same scene a clock will read 10:30 and 11:30 during the same conversation. I'm a movie cynic. But I love rom-coms. And I'm willing to suspend belief for that 1 hour and 44 minutes every time.

The thought did cross my mind that in real life, Becks would be homeless (or living with her parents), never had a job past staff writer (she certainly didn't have the work ethics or smarts to be a freelance journalist), would've been ignored by the handsomest man on the planet, and probably would have ended up either dead via suicide, or an old bag lady. But none of that happened in the movie, so good for you Becks!

So when I'm 35, you can probably find me eating ice cream, cuddling with my cat, and enjoying a wonderfully fantastically horrible rom-com completely alone and also completely happy.

Oh wait, you can probably find me doing that now.