Rom-Coms are Porn.

I’ve never seen porn in my life. Not once. I find the very idea of it deeply unappealing, grotesque, and frankly, sad. So yes, I’m anti-porn. And its not from some moral high horse, its just gross to me. Additionally, the science is clear: it rewires expectations, numbs real intimacy, and corrodes relationships.

That said, I have consumed my fair share of romantic comedies. I’m convinced they’re just as damaging. Rom-coms are the pornography of emotional expectations. Just like adult films distort sex, these movies distort love. They sell us a fantasy. And often it leaves us disappointed with the real thing.

We've been sold the idea that real love starts with heart-pounding, breath-catching moments. The meet-cute (shoutout to one of my favorite IG pages!). The instant chemistry. The butterflies that make you dizzy with possibility. But here's the truth: sustainable love doesn't usually begin with fireworks.

Here’s a little story. I once went on a date with a truly wonderful man. Smart, thoughtful, devilishly handsome.(Do people even say that anymore, devilishly handsome? I’d like to start using that more.)The conversation flowed, and our values aligned on paper as far as I could tell. And yet, a few small missteps nearly cost him a second date, and what would eventually become a meaningful relationship.

First: no reservation.

I’m extremely time-conscious. If we’ve ever had dinner together and you were late, you already know, I will absolutely take the first few minutes to make it known that you were late. If you tell me dinner is at 7 p.m. and I arrive at the restaurant at 7 p.m., only to find we still have to wait for a table? I’m annoyed.

Luckily for him, a table opened up just in time. But let me be clear: making a reservation is baseline behavior. It signals foresight, care, and basic competence. If you can’t plan ahead for dinner, how am I supposed to trust you to plan a life with me?

Now, to some people, a reservation might not seem like a big deal. But I’m not some people. I care deeply about my time. I notice the details. And best believe I will draw conclusions. I cannot expect a man to take care of me, a mortgage, or our hypothetical children if he can’t even manage to book a table. Be a man. Take care of it.

Second: I have a rule.

On a first date, you must ask at least ten questions in the span of an hour. If they don't, I infer that they are only interested in talking about themselves and aren't able to connect or develop a deeper understanding of other people. Towards the very end of dinner, he threw in a few more questions! Just in time.

From then on, we never stopped talking.

There were no butterflies that night. No dizzying sparks. It was a slow-burning relationship. It was steady. It was curious. And God, was it fun.

Real attraction often grows slowly. It builds through shared experiences, mutual respect, and genuine compatibility. The couples who make it long-term often describe their early relationship as "comfortable" or "easy" rather than "electric."

One night, much later, I was lying in bed with the same man and I told him I didn’t understand why we fall in love with some people and not others. He looked at me very calmly and said, “We’ve experienced things together. We have all these good memories and feelings. And then we melt and bond and harden again, and keep melting and bonding.”

Then he paused, and said, “We’re comfortable together. We love each other. And it’s unlikely I’ll ever have this feeling with anyone else.”

It wasn’t a grand gesture, I wasn’t swooning when he said it. It was a normal midday, snuggled-up chit-chat. But what he was saying was this: we fall in love over time. Sometimes for no dramatic reason at all. We just keep interacting, living, folding the other person into the rhythm of our days. They become part of the furniture of our lives, and slowly, we melt into each other.

We go through things. Hard things, sad things, fun things together, and then we bond again. We harden. We soften. And then we do it all over. That’s the magic of it. It never really ends. So what the hell am I talking about here… cinema, how we consume the idea of love!

The Hollywood Lie

I love movies. I love love. I love rom-coms (though I don’t always love comedy). And I love a list. So all week, I’ve been mentally cataloging what some of my favorite romantic films are actually teaching us about relationships/love.

• The Notebook - Noah threatens to kill himself unless Allie agrees to a date, dangling from a Ferris wheel. In real life, this is called emotional manipulation. Not romance.

  

• Pretty Woman - Edward "saves" Vivian by buying her expensive clothes and reinventing her image. Look, I know this one’s problematic. But personally? I find shopping with a man to be an ideal Sunday activity. I have no notes.

  

• Sleepless in Seattle - Sam and Annie have one conversation and are suddenly soulmates. Must be nice to fall in love without discussing trauma, debt, or baggage.

  

• Love Actually - I actually saw this movie for the first time in December! Mark professes his love to his best friend’s wife via cue cards after they’re married. No. This is not charming! It’s an emotional affair. Either speak up before the vows or take it to the grave. And if you’re secretly in love with me, please tell me before I say “I do.”

  

• Grease - This is my dad’s favorite movie. Sandy changes everything about herself, including her wardrobe and personality, to win Danny back. The takeaway? Compromise yourself for love. I preferred the cheerleader look on her.

  

• Titanic - She’s engaged to someone else. Jack and Rose have known each other for three days. And somehow, she’s the tragic heroine? Reminder: engagement is not a hostage situation. If you’re not sure- just say no.

  

• Good Will Hunting - Will sabotages every good thing in his life because of unresolved trauma, and we’re supposed to clap when Skylar just waits it out. Like girl, you have Harvard exams. But god—that line at the end, “I gotta go see about a girl”—ugh, classic. I love it.

  

Rom-coms sell us the myth that love conquers all. That the right person will change everything. That timing doesn’t matter, and that grand gestures fix fundamental incompatibilities. They show us transformed men who suddenly "get it" and women who can remake themselves into someone's perfect match.

The perfect person doesn’t exist. And no, most people don’t change,not in the ways you want, and not on your timeline. Pay attention to their actions, not their lines. Anyone can say the right thing. Very few people do the right thing, consistently.

The reality is the divorce rate for first marriages in the U.S. still hovers around 40–45%. And that’s not because people don’t fall in love, it’s because they confuse chemistry for character.

So yes, watch the rom-com. Cry at the airport scene. Swoon at the kiss in the rain. Hell go out and get kissed in the rain! But do not use rom-coms as a blueprint. They are not roadmaps. They are fantasy. They are porn.