Colonel Brandon, Gilbert Blythe, Ryan Lavery, George O'Malley...books and television shows are full of fabulous, perfect men who just want to love women too stupid or blind to realize what's right in front of them. No matter where or when the story takes place, the theme of unrequited love never changes. Most of the time, in books or movies, the woman suddenly wakes up and rushes to her lover's arms -- usually, there's rain involved -- and she declares herself. Don't know what I'm talking about? Try watching Four Weddings and a Funeral or Emma (along with countless other films).
Every girl has had at least one "George" in her dating career, and it usually never works out like it does in the movies. More often than not, an alcohol-fueled evening results in sloppy sex/making out, crazy declarations (like in a four page letter that you're never supposed to read in the first place, but we're so not going there), and the dissolution of a really beautiful friendship. Sometimes you find your way back to each other; but it's never the same, and you spend every minute that you're with each other wishing and hoping that you could take that stupid night back. Then, you settle on the idea that you should treat him like nothing ever happened, but you wonder if that's hurting him even more than it would if you just avoided
him altogether. Mr. Laurence had the right idea, sending Teddy off to Europe after Jo said "no."
And about Jo...I spent years furious with Miss March for turning down the Laurence boy. Really, the saddest part of Little Women to me wasn't the part when Beth died, but when Teddy offered his world to Jo -- fully expecting her to say yes -- and she refused him. I didn't understand why the first few times I read it, but years and experience have taught me that Jo was actually the smartest one of all the girls othe authors put in that situation. Teddy deserved someone who was going to adore him, and that woman was Amy. If Beth had lived, I could see
her as being a better match, but as Meg was married and Jo was clear with her feelings, Amy
was the only other way.
The problem is, is that we're all crazy romantics. Every time we see Harry running across New York City on New Year's Eve or Anne telling Gil that she doesn't need "sunbursts or marble halls," we tell ourselves that it's just a movie, but we also start thinking that the person we should be with is our best friend. After all, as my "George" told me when I was in high school,
"the best friends make the best lovers." So, every time we get dumped or stood up and we someone to make us feel pretty and wanted and safe, it's only natural that the first call made is to the man that we know will drop everything for us. Is it something to be proud of, of course not, but when you want to be with a man who is going to accept you for you, flaws and all,
and you want him RIGHT THEN, the last thing that your flawed self is really thinking about is what's really best for the man that adores you. Just a tip, it's not whatever you have in mind.
That's why your second call absolutely must be to your girlfriends. Turning the evening into a group activity diffuses the bomb of regret that would otherwise go off in your face. Unlike a bomb, however, the scars aren't visible. They just run deep.
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