I, self-proclaimed, am a hope-
less romantic. Far too much of my
free time has been spent overin-
dulging in the typical rom-com
movie fantasies. Two strangers
meet, perhaps stumble into each
other in that oh-so-whimsical way,
fall in love, have the inevitable
misunderstanding that leaves us
(or maybe just me) screaming into
pillows and waving fists in the air,
followed by the long-awaited but
never-doubted happily ever after.
Bonus points if there’s rain. I’m
looking at you, “The Notebook.”
Ever since I had braces and hair
that frizzed in a way that Rachel
McAdams’ never would, I’ve been
completely enamored by the ro-
mantic comedy.
This falsified idea of love be-
ing the happy, rose-tinted “after”
to contrast a dismal “before” char-
acterized by microwaveable meals
for one was completely ingrained
in the way I thought about rela-
tionships. Rom-coms taught me,
if anything, that a life without all-
consuming romance is one inher-
ently lacking something. Until we
find this romance that sweeps us
off of our feet to the non-diegetic
voice of Céline Dion, we are pain-
fully unfulfilled and subject to aim-
less waiting. Yet I still choose to
consume these movies, again and
again, knowing they completely
skew my perception of realistic
love. What other option is there?
There are hardly any movies
about self-love — women who fo-
cus on themselves and don’t have
a yearning for romance, or women
who simply live without some sort
of romantic pursuit. Sure, there
are movies about empowered
women who take charge of their
lives and chase after their ambi-
tions, but they are still portrayed
as lacking something within them-
selves — in blunt terms — lacking
a heart. They need the love and
all too subtle “handling” of a man
to knock some sense into them,
transforming them from robot to
woman. This is a misleading exam-
ple to follow, and has conditioned
me to believe that if I lack awe-
inspiring romance in my life, then
there is an inherent dissatisfaction
within me propagating this sense
of “unfulfillment.” Or rather, my
life is an example of pure normalcy
that rom-coms purposely disguise
as unfulfillment.
Rom-coms: a distorted reality
IRENA TUTUNARI
Statement Columnist
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
One of the first concepts intro-
duced in Physics 240 at the Univer-
sity of Michigan — Coulomb’s Law
— has a lot more to offer than just a
description of the physical world.
The law, critical to the understand-
ing of all concepts under electricity
and magnetism, helps quantify the
electrostatic force of attraction be-
tween two charged objects.
While people aren’t exactly
charges floating around the vacuum
of space, the attraction and con-
nection felt between two people is,
without a doubt, one of the stron-
gest forces within our observable
universe. But what bonds people
together — love, as it’s commonly
called — does not act independently
from other forces that are at play,
forces like weight.
As a Pakistani-American, I’ve
felt my culture, background and
family weigh on my love life con-
stantly. Undeniably, I’ve always
found my culture to be a great
power, one that can offer purpose
and guidance in times of need. With
great power, though, comes great
responsibility — a responsibility to
carry culture with you always, lest
you let it become diluted. And, for
the most part, it’s doable, albeit
extremely difficult while immersed
in a culture that is fundamentally
different from your own. The prob-
lem becomes infinitely harder when
dealing with love. I can turn away
from pork and alcohol, speak Urdu
and arrive late to parties — all pivotal
aspects of Pakistani culture — much
easier than I can turn away from love.
Because I lacked the freedom
to experience love much elsewhere,
I often found myself in parking lots:
an in-between, neither an origin nor
a destination. To be stuck in be-
tween love and culture is to inhabit
these liminal spaces, both volun-
tarily and not.
Target
Errands, as it turns out, are
one of the easiest ways to get an
excuse to go somewhere. Since my
only available method to develop
a meaningful romantic relation-
ship with anyone centered around
excuses, I found myself partaking
in them often. I would go to many
different places — Target being one
of the most frequented — just to
spend time with someone I loved.
I walked through countless aisles,
looked through countless items, but
bought absolutely nothing. After all,
I was only there to spend time, not
money.
Being a Pakistani-American
college student in a predominantly
white institution like the University
of Michigan’s is a weird feeling. It’s
as though everyone around you is
either talking about love, in love or
dealing with the repercussions of
love. The collective mood that re-
sults from the culture of date parties,
marriage pacts and Tinder almost
makes me forget that there was ever
a point where I wasn’t able to love
freely. That is, until I actually think
about loving someone.
I don’t want to frame the prob-
lem of cultural pressure surround-
ing love as a challenge that others
inflict upon me. It’s really an inter-
nal struggle, a voice in the back of
my mind that seems to feed off of the
impossibility of my fantasies. I tell
myself that we’re too different, or
that our parents wouldn’t get along
or that they wouldn’t understand
certain traditions in an attempt to
undermine my own ability to love.
I found myself window shop-
ping. Looking endlessly through
many different aisles filled with
different things, but being un-
able to buy anything. In an at-
tempt to stalwart my own sabo-
tage, I defer to the parking lot.
Lots of love: a reflection on the relationship
between culture and love
ZHANE YAMIN
Statement Contributor
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
3 — Wednesday, February 8, 2023 // The Statement