How Fictional Characters Ruin My Life

February 14, 2012

In case you're living in a ditch, today's Valentine's Day, or as I like to call it, Single's Awareness Day. A day where the lovers of the world rejoice and the single people have a chance to wallow in our pit of despair.

But, dear reader, that wallowing angsty teenager is not I! For today I had my weekly date at the library and I just got myself several new fictional boyfriends. Currently I have over a hundred, but let's ignore that little fact and look at the wonderful new additions that are added to that list daily. 

Now, in retrospect I do think that I probably should put myself more out there. Granted, I will never be a social butterfly, but I mean, I could bother to go to a couple of the dances once in a while (I've never been to one. Ever.) 

But why should I? The guys at my school are terrible and they seem to be epitome of socially awkward. They are the mixed with the wanting need to love anime girls or be a model for either Urban Outfitters or a gangster clothing brand chain. They're a weird bunch of teenage guys who's conception of romance is fueled by their hormones and not understanding. 

So you see my predicament? I'm a sensible teenage girl. I wear normal clothes, like fandoms and books way too much, and I don't spend hours in front of my mirror every morning. I'm plain and about as social as a Perry the Platypus over the summer in the tri-state area. These guys and I don't click, and I don't think we ever will.

And that's why I resort to fictional characters. I need my Edward Cullen's and Jace Wayland's to comfort me in the fact that the guys that I know are terrible. That no one will ever exist who is as badass as Patch or as caring as Etienne St. Clair (and if you don't know who that is, then shame on you). I need these characters to make up not only for the lack of nice guys at my school, but the fact that no one will ever live up to them. They're perfect and irreplaceable.

In the end, I think that no matter how much I love them and how amazingly awesome they are, they are both my saviors and my condemners. They've ruined real people for me and have given me unrealistic expectations. They're stupidly perfect and have made me realise with an aching despair that the only guys that might live up to those expectations either don't exist at all, or are douche bag English majors with beards who read Thoreau in their free time and hate all things main stream.

But do I regret loving them despite all that? No.
I'm in too deep and I can't get out, even if I wanted too. 

Am I sad that I'm alone on Valentines Day? No.
I really don't mind being single, I just would like to know that maybe somewhere out there a perfect guy exists. Like Edward Cullen-esque type guy just to be reassured that they haven't completely screwed my life. But, really, I'm not in denial. I'm not.

So yeah, they terrible in all the right ways and that's why I love them.

Now, if only Lloyd Dobler existed in real life...


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