2008 Woodie Awards
My storybook romance
Danielle Stillman
Issue date: 1/29/08 Section: Opinion
Women are lied to from birth. They are told that they are swooning princesses in high towers, and that the first joker in a suit of armor that rides up is their Prince Charming. Disney princesses have long been the recipients of feminist flak for the unrealistic expectations they plant in little minds, but they are not the only variety of nonsense that is floating around the teenage years.
Love has been very different from my pre-conditioned and pre-conceived notions. As a cynical and overdramatic teenager, I never bought into the fairytales-I opted for an opposite vision. It was still just as idealized as the princess-in-a-tower image; I wanted something theatrical and dark, covert and intimate.
My relationship with my boyfriend has not been love in "shades of blue and gray" (as I wrote as a 16-year-old-whatever that means). Instead, I communicate to my boyfriend through a series of jingles we have composed together, as well as high-pitched noises that are only intelligible to the two of us. My fantasy of a relationship that was dark and dramatic has given way to midnight sessions of knock-knock jokes that become progressively less comprehensible as the evening wears on.
Our idea of the perfect day does not involve walks on the beach and does not end with a candlelit picnic; we would rather play Frisbee, watch a football game and gorge ourselves on frozen pizza. Honestly, if Boy ever did anything involving candles, barring a power outage, I would look for pods in the backyard, because this is not my boyfriend. Over-the-top is not our style.
As Valentine's Day approaches, I am bombarded by more cultural standards, demanding that I expect extravagant gifts of flowers, chocolate and jewelry from my partner. Nevermind that he is slaving away at a college degree and struggling to pay the bills every month. If he is not able to cough up the goods, my culture tells me, he is somehow deficient and not worth my time. It is not a particularly forgiving outlook.
Love has been very different from my pre-conditioned and pre-conceived notions. As a cynical and overdramatic teenager, I never bought into the fairytales-I opted for an opposite vision. It was still just as idealized as the princess-in-a-tower image; I wanted something theatrical and dark, covert and intimate.
My relationship with my boyfriend has not been love in "shades of blue and gray" (as I wrote as a 16-year-old-whatever that means). Instead, I communicate to my boyfriend through a series of jingles we have composed together, as well as high-pitched noises that are only intelligible to the two of us. My fantasy of a relationship that was dark and dramatic has given way to midnight sessions of knock-knock jokes that become progressively less comprehensible as the evening wears on.
Our idea of the perfect day does not involve walks on the beach and does not end with a candlelit picnic; we would rather play Frisbee, watch a football game and gorge ourselves on frozen pizza. Honestly, if Boy ever did anything involving candles, barring a power outage, I would look for pods in the backyard, because this is not my boyfriend. Over-the-top is not our style.
As Valentine's Day approaches, I am bombarded by more cultural standards, demanding that I expect extravagant gifts of flowers, chocolate and jewelry from my partner. Nevermind that he is slaving away at a college degree and struggling to pay the bills every month. If he is not able to cough up the goods, my culture tells me, he is somehow deficient and not worth my time. It is not a particularly forgiving outlook.