Dear More RomCom Bullshit,
Why is it that people think walks in the rain are romantic? If this were true, Seattle would be the most romantic city in the world.
It’s not.
Let’s approach it this way– if walking in the rain was inherently romantic, then walking the dog in the rain should also be romantic. Not in a bestiality kind of way, but in a dreamy, introspective, beautiful world kind of way.
the Mona Lisa of dogs
Instead, walking in the rain with a dog is TERRIBLE. All you can think about is how wet your feet are, and how when you get home you’re going to have to wipe her feet off, and maybe give her a bath, and there’s rain sneaking along the side of your hood into your ear and if that car splashes you when it goes by, you will slash its tires, so help you god.
And you are hoping to end up walking around with a bag of poop in your hand. That is your best case scenario: poop. In your hand.
And look, I like my dog a lot better than anyone I’ve ever dated.*
We think that taking walks in the rain is romantic because the movies TELL US SO. And the movies don’t lie! They’re like the internet: truth machines.
Even better than walking in the rain: kissing in the rain. Have you ever made out in the rain? I grew up in Seattle. I’ve made out in the rain. Making out in the rain = not romantic. You can’t tell where the wetness is coming from— Raindrops? Saliva? Tears? Snot? You end up feeling like it’s all tongue. Everywhere. In your eyes. Hair. Up the sleeve of your jacket. Mashed between your noses.
Hot, right?
The whole idea that movies are trying to sell, I think, is that when you are with your one true love, you don’t notice what’s going around you— ie, you kiss in the middle of the street in NYC and you think you won’t die**, you get engaged on a roller coaster and don’t see the kid puking behind you into his dad’s cupped hands…. and you don’t feel the rain. Or at least, you don’t mind it. But do you seriously not notice wet socks just because the dude next to you is dreamy? Wet socks are the WORST.***
True love deadens all your nerves. Even as it pulls you into a state of transcendency and bliss.
….apparently I’ve been dating the wrong people. As in, not wizards or gods. Or really good anesthesiologists.
MM
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*Then again, you’ll notice “dated” is in past tense. I guess it’s not surprising I like my dog better than my ex-boyfriends.
**Let’s think of this from an evolutionary perspective. Say “love” does keep you from noticing your surroundings. Wouldn’t you die before you could procreate? It just doesn’t make sense, biologically. Then again— maybe you don’t notice your surroundings so that you’ll hurry up and procreate anywhere. Regardless of circumstances. Hmm. Will think on this more. Because like I said, the movies are truth machines, so they can be explained by science. You just have to find the right science. Michelle Bachmann-style.
***I tried to come up with a “He better have ___________ and ___________ if you expect me to forget wet socks.” But the best I could come up with was “bulletproof abs” and “the sensitivity of a trained therapist” and that didn’t seem to nearly cover it. Also bulletproof abs sound uncomfortable, and I’d really rather my bf wasn’t a therapist. He’d be so damn understanding whenever we fought. Then I tried “Show me the guy who can make me forget wet socks and I’ll show you Rhett Butler without the rape-y tendency.” That didn’t seem sufficient either. Wet socks really are the worst.
