No More Drama

To say that I am a romantic would be an understatement. When I fall -- for anything or anyone -- I fall hard, with my entire heart, body, and soul. When applied to a person, this trait is the stuff true love is made of, but when directed towards, say, a television show and fictional characters, it's a personality disorder.

For as long as I can remember, I have been a champion of underdog romance. A lot of people like movies like Say Anything, Pretty in Pink, and The Sure Thing, but I actually believe them. If a love story doesn't end up, in my estimation, with the right people together, I exhibit the kind of rigid denial most often associated with evangelists, or Dick Cheney. When I first read Little Women at age 12, I was so incensed that Jo passed up Laurie for that old professor guy, and that -- I can still barely bring myself to type this, as I refuse to accept that it's true -- Laurie ends up with that little bitch Amy, I threw the book down and cried. When popular Jack cheated on chubby Benny in Maeve Binchy's Circle of Friends, I covered the paperback with tearful grafitti: Go Benny! Jack is scum!!!

Later, after I traded in books for television (To my parents: this was not your fault. You read to me every night just like you were supposed to!), my condition worsened. When Billy and Alison got together on Melrose Place, I taped the episode and watched their first kiss over and over. Three episodes later, when Amanda came between them, I locked myself in the bathroom and sobbed. My sister, all of eight years old, banged on the door in vain, shouting "It's only a television show!" My brain knows that, but my heart doesn't. Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves; I wear mine on the screen.

I should have learned my lesson, but a few weeks ago I started watching the American version of The Office and immediately fell hard for Jim and Pam, the salesman and receptionist whose unrealized love is one of the show's major plots. Since I watched the entire second season in a few days, the courtship, for me, was quick and painful. They are perfect for each other, but Pam is engaged, so when Jim finally professes his love she can't reciprocate. Then he -- why, God, why??? -- transfers to another branch and just when Pam calls off her wedding he starts dating someone else.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

How can people stand this? I haven't cried yet, but I am kind of depressed, and while I hate to admit it, I really think it's because of Jim and Pam. I have no patience for fate's little foibles, no matter ho wmuch they boost NBC's ratings. You're breaking my heart, people!

I was sheepishly admitting my love of The Office to a co-worker today, and he said, "I got your Save the Date, and my roommate thinks you and Jeff look just like Jim and Pam." I smiled (despite the fact that I am totally hotter than Jenna Fischer Pam. Jenna Fischer is actually superhot; Pam is a little bit dowdy. But you know what, Pam? That means Jim really loves you for who you are. Oh, God. I need help). I guess I should cut my fictional characters a little slack. Not everyone gets their happy ending, as much as we want them to. I, on the other hand, have my Jim (er, Jeff). There is no sweeps week to tear us apart, and there is no author trying to turn our love story into a page-turner. I suppose I should feel lucky that I get my heartbreak from TV these days.

Amy is still a little whore, though. I'll say that to my dying day.

No More Drama