Disney movies are to the nostalgic millennial as neon leg warmers are to the 80’s.

For many, these films are a life source, a reminder—and thus reinvigoration—of simpler times and the subsequent desire for such times, when student loans weren’t depleting our income, when exams that may very well determine our futures did not yet exist, and when brightly-colored animated characters were sufficient grounds to put a smile on our adolescent faces.

As delightfully reminiscent these movies may be, the already ignored undertones should cease to be neglected.

The relationships portrayed in Disney movies are not the perfect couplings we would all believe them to be; there is an overlooked toxicity in these relationships that deserves some attention.

Meeting someone and subsequently agreeing to marry them however many minutes of runtime later is not a model to idolize.

There is always something to be learned in a Disney movie, some hackneyed moral or otherwise important life lesson, so maybe this knowledge is just further evidence of that.

The obvious example, referenced briefly in the paragraph above, is that of Anna and Hans from 2013’s Frozen. Barring the fact that Hans was a manipulative, murderous d-bag, it still stands that the two characters had known each other for an impressive five minutes before becoming engaged.

The world would be a much different place if people got married after every duet. Time isn’t something you can rush.

You need to see a partner at their best—and worst—to truly know your compatibility. I highly doubt Anna would have been so gung-ho about marrying Hans if she had seen him stuck in traffic. Just saying.

The time in which it takes characters to bond is not the only trouble here. It would be inaccurate to state that those seeking relationships in real life are not also drawn to individuals who are, in their eyes, physically attractive.

It is clear that Disney has nurtured a strong affinity toward vanity.

On the one hand, yes, it is only natural for little girls to dream of being a beautiful princess and finding a handsome prince; on the other, for these characters to plunge headfirst into a fresh relationship with someone with whom they have spent very little time and whose mutual attraction lies solely within the aesthetic qualities each other possesses is neither mature nor appropriate.

Not everyone who society deems as a gorgeous individual is the type of person to spend a lifetime with—cough—Gaston.

Speaking further on the issues presented by characters focused only on external traits, here enters Aladdin and his plight. Despite how sweet and fun he is, he chose to fabricate an entire identity just to impress Jasmine, who then fell for this façade before meeting the true Aladdin.

Not only does this reaffirm Disney’s vanity problem, but introduces an issue of trust—where in reality a person would likely never wish to see someone again if they lied to the extent Aladdin had, Jasmine seems none too privy to how blatantly unwise her decision to continue trusting him was.

Prince Eric found a naked mermaid-turned-human washed up on the shore and thought the quirky mute girl was an amazing sight to behold. All well and nice, BUT he was too focused on finding the girl who had saved him—Ariel—and whose mesmerizing voice he could not get out of his head—Ariel—to realize the potential he and this quiet smiling girl—Ariel—had together.

It also stands that he almost married a transformed Ursula, one of Disney’s most ugly characters by intentional design, because she had captured Ariel’s voice, leaving Ariel at the drop of a hat. Prince Philip falls in love with Aurora while happening upon her dancing in the woods.

True, finding someone beautiful is a wonderful thing and is worth promoting. Watching people from a vantage point among the trees? Not so much.

In real life, that’s a little thing I like to call stalking. The list goes on and includes a majority of Disney’s animated library.

Even The Lion King can be held accountable for this oversight, and don’t tell me Nala is not the sexiest lioness you’ve ever seen.

Vanity and a lack of bonding are both problematic, but not all-encompassing regarding the myriad of dilemmas Disney relationships face offscreen.

For instance, nothing quite screams romance like Stockholm syndrome. Sarcasm aside, when examining the relationship between Belle and Beast, there are few redeeming qualities that come to mind.

No one with a reasonable level of sanity should love the man who held them against their will. Yes, it is touching that Belle can look past Beast’s ferocious exterior and see the warm, misunderstood lovebug hidden deep inside, but that does not excuse the fact that he locked her up in some ace in the hole attempt at becoming human once more.

You don’t see me locking up women because I can’t remember how to make Easy Mac.

We should pity these characters, not covet them. They are coerced into some limited narrative, resembling a healthy relationship only in at first glance, one usually initiated for improper reasons and further carried by the prospect of personally causing some change in their significant other.

This is not love. This is this illusion of such able to fit into a 90-minute movie.

The truth of the matter is: love requires so much more than Disney would lead us to believe.

And maybe that’s the real problem here; maybe we’re set up to expect a fairy tale ending without any effort, compromise, or empathy.

I do believe there is a happily ever after for each of us; but there needs to be an awkward introduction, an altercation worth fixing, and so much more before that cheery future after the end credits can ever exist.