I adore romantic comedies and happy endings. My middle school literary canon consisted of realistic fiction and teenage romance novels, nearly all of which involved a male and a female protagonist who fell in love. When prom season came around, I procrastinated by watching videos of extravagant proposals.
Therefore, it’s hardly surprising that my favorite conversation topics were (past tense!) romantic relationships. I delighted in hearing about my peers' romantic musings: flirty interests, ambiguous text messages sprinkled with winky faces, and bittersweet conversations that left room for hope but not for certainty. That was secondary-school me. *Cue collective facepalming*
Disclaimer: I still enjoy talking about romance. It’s fun, lighthearted, and entertaining. However, there is a glaring error in my tactics of using romance as a profound conversation topic, not so much in practice, but in motivation. I didn’t realize the severity of this glitch until an exchange I had with Dana, a long time friend and senior I grabbed dinner with last quarter.
After chatting for a while about our interests, passions and joys, she asked me if I was familiar with the Bechdel test. I recognized it as a media benchmark that should be met, but was unsure of the details. Dana explained there are two criteria a movie must meet to pass the test:
1. The story must have at least two [named] female characters…
2. Who speak to each other about something other than a man*
Dana then elaborated that she applies a similar logic to her conversations with other women, and consciously works to chat about different topics before bringing up romantic relationships. And, after dinner, I remembered a discussion I had two years ago with Kaitlyn, one of my closest friends:
Me: “I feel like I best know someone after talking about their love lives.”
Kaitlyn: “Really? I always think I know someone better after hearing their life views and unique perspectives.”
I had never considered my approach to familiarity and closeness to be flawed, but upon reevaluating after dinner with Dana, I understood that I had equated knowing someone’s romantic life to knowing that person on a deeper level. While discussing our love lives provides greater insight into lives as a whole, it is not comparable to knowing someone’s fascinations, inspirations and hardships.
The source of my confusion is that love life often blends all three of these categories, for better or for worse. My views were not entirely incorrect; our stories and values are magnified and blended into how we operate romantically. Hence, I assumed that by knowing someone’s love life, I knew the whole person. And I didn’t.
Vulnerability begets closeness and intimacy, but the only form of vulnerability I thought to probe pertained to romance. And, because we had years to grow up together (and romance was one of the highest priorities at the time), I became close friends with that individual. It worked quite nicely, until I got to college. Those conversations don’t work as well anymore; at best, they supplement a greater discussion composed of additional, and arguably more important, topics that matter when getting to know someone.
But, the question remains: Why did I place so much emphasis on romantic life? And why is it the go-to conversation for people (especially women) everywhere?
-Because it is intimate, but not too personal.
-Because people enjoy sharing their successes, and even their failures, in the realm of romance.
-Because it is far too easy to prioritize romance at the expense of principles; romance continually reaps tangible rewards in shorter time-frames.
-Because it is so heavily emphasized in the media that we are constantly reminded of our own romantic relationships, and are inherently curious about those of others.
-Because it mixes various aspects of identity into a clear, concise question.
-Because we feel like we know someone profoundly when they are comfortable sharing details about their love lives with us.
Once we acknowledge that questions about romance are commonly asked in place of more acute questions, we can work to avoid the trap I was stuck in for most of my adolescence. Learning about romance is a deceivingly simple way to think you understand a person, but nothing replaces the time, shared experiences, and genuine listening it takes to truly get to know someone.
*You may be surprised at the number of movies that don’t have one or both of these components; Star Wars, Up, Avatar, Lord of the Rings, and The Blind Side fail the Bechdel test.
