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