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  • Writer's pictureKara Chatham

Not a Romantic Comedy


Let me paint the scene for you. I am sitting on my very not made bed (like my mother would give me her speech on the importance of making beds if she saw the state that it is in and has been in for the past few days) in my one bedroom apartment. Glasses on top of my head. Hair is pulled back in a sorry excuse for a bun. I have one lamp on as I am not a big fan of overhead lights. I have a body pillow that is between me and the wall I am leaning against. I think that writing is one of the best comforts in the world. It is right up there with chocolate and hot tea and literary films (and or web series). If this were a romantic comedy, I fit the bill for the heroine of the story. But it’s not, so don’t go down that road.

My name? Are names really that important to a story? You know, I used to think so and I spent so much time finding the perfect name for my characters in the stories I worked on (yes, I am a writer. Shocker I know) and then I got lazy and just started picking names that I really liked. Not saying that I didn’t like the ones I slaved myself over, but fictional name generators are a writer’s best friend (after tea and chocolate…and jars of peanut butter). Anyway I am getting distracted (entirely normal for me).

I mentioned that if this were a romantic comedy, I would be the heroine. That is not because I am the writer and it is somewhat normal for writers to place themselves in their main characters. Again, don’t go down that road. But if this were a romantic comedy, there would be a hero – a romantic interest, if you will. I think it is perfectly natural for a female to imagine different scenarios of that special someone walking into her life. Now whether or not she openly admits that is a different story, but Jane Austen did say, “A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.” See? Totally natural. Now I make up stories for a living, so there is no reason for you to believe that the things I am about to tell you are real.

There was this guy…(great way to start I know)… He reminded me how important it is to have laughter a part of your day to day life. We had the same sense of humor. It was awesome. (Gosh, my writing sounds ridiculous…maybe I shouldn’t…no… I promised…) Our sense of humor is what brought about the first nickname. We were hanging out and it was time for us to part ways for the night. He picked his phone up and said, “Need my phone to text boo.”

To which I replied, “When did I become a three-year-old girl?”

Now you may be a little confused, but from that little interaction – to which we laughed hysterically at for a good while – the nickname “Kitty” came about. See, we determined that if I was Boo then he was Sully, therefore making him Kitty.

Anyway… All you really need to know about the relationship is that it was very good. Definitely what I needed at that moment in time. I hope it was what he needed too. Things ended for perfectly logical reasons and for some reason I haven’t really wanted to let go. To be clear, I am completely okay. I do not need him (or any man for that matter) to be happy in life. I have my goals and ideals for life and that is where my focus has strayed. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t reminders of him every now and then. And it is not a bad thing to remember him. All memories connected to him are beautiful and I get as giddy as I get when I’m talking about Jane Austen or summer camp.

So… If this situation were a romantic comedy (which it is not), there would probably some great monologue that he would say. It would be about how he was wrong and wanted to fix things and all of that mumbo jumbo they throw in these things. More often than not, I see myself in the 27 Dresses scenario where I am giving the speech. Or one of those writer rom-coms – Stuck in Love or Playing It Cool – you know, since I am a writer and I am narrating this. Anyway, I would find a way to get it so that we are face to face – preferably not in front of a bunch of people because let’s be honest, it is none of their business. And I would probably say something along these lines…

“I don’t know why things ended. I mean I know all of the reasons that were given, but that does not mean I really know why you ended it. I hope that it wasn’t my fault or that of an unnamed person that you know the name of. What I also hope that you know is that I care very much for you. I have fought myself on this so much. I honestly feel more like the Darcy of this than the Lizzie, but I still think of you as the Darcy to my Lizzie. I also think of you as the Wookiee to my Han Solo. I realize that isn’t all that romantic, but you did always call me Solo. I’d even go as far to say that you’re the criminal to my princess and I have never really been one for being a princess. For you, I’d be one though. Dude, I care so much about you. I really don’t want to imagine my life without you. The level of happiness that I experience when I even think about the memories we have already made is unreal. There are words I want to say but I don’t want to scare you. So…words. All of them.”

And naturally “(Don’t You) Forget About Me” by Simple Minds plays in the background because this is most definitely a movie.

To be honest, I feel ridiculous thinking about the possibility of this being a reality. I know it will most definitely not happen, because life isn't a romantic comedy. No matter how much something feels like it came straight from a movie or a book, your entire life is not one giant Rom-Com. And you have to remember that. You can imagine things however you want them to, but that does not mean that is exactly how it will play out. This is reality, not something that has been scripted for your own personal enjoyment. You have absolutely no say over what other people do in your life. You only have control over your own actions. You can only make decisions for yourself and hope that others will understand and possibly make decisions that will allow them to stay in your life. I do not know what the future holds.

As far as what my present holds… It holds a movie of some genre (haven’t quite decided yet), a spoon, a jar of peanut butter, and some glorious alone time. There is no shame in alone time. Sometimes it seems like there is, but I promise you there is none.

Now, see, I told you this wasn’t a romantic comedy. There was a discussion of romance. Hopefully it was comedic for you. I was laughing at myself the whole time I wrote this (well… actually I took dance breaks as I was listening to “(Don’t You) Forget About Me” by Simple Minds the entire time I was writing this). I’m not helping my case at all… I’m just making myself look weirder by the word. I’m going to go watch my movie now…

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