No Hollywood Endings

Our blogger  reworks some classic romantic comedies for New Year's Eve.

By Liza Persky

So, it's come and gone and I survived it once again, and I'm not talking about the day-after-Christmas sale at Bloomingdales.  Although I am starting to feel like there should be some sort of Purple Heart given for those that survive that battle, I'm talking about New Year's Eve.  Some girls feel that Valentine's Day is the hardest day of the year to be single, but, for me, it's New Year's Eve. I think it's because of something I heard once: the way you spend New Year's Eve will be a direct indication of how you spend the rest of the year.  It has somewhat traumatized me ever since, but that's what you get for living your life according to a one-day intensive at The Learning Annex.


It's not that I didn't have offers to spend New Year's Eve with people.  My girlfriend, Molly, said I could come to dinner with her, her husband, and her 26-year-old newly engaged sister.  While I appreciated the offer, I got over wallowing in self-pity the day I got rid of my Best of Tori Amos CD collection. My friend, Miranda, said I could come with her and do the Midnight Run in Central Park. Again, a very nice offer, but to even have a chance at meeting a guy on New Year's Eve it's not going to be with pony-tail hair and snot coming out of my nose.  And my friend, Sam, invited me to a gay bar where they apparently all get naked at midnight.  I'd have a better chance with the snot scenario.  

Since none of my choices seemed viable, I decided to not cave to peer pressure and to just do what I really wanted to do: stay home and watch a movie. My choice was easy: "When Harry Met Sally". It's not only one of my favorite movies, but I felt like it was meant to be since the ending of the movie takes place on New Year's Eve.  What I failed to remember is that the end of that movie makes "Schindler's List" look like a Vince Vaughn comic romp, at least to a single girl.  

No sooner did I regret my choice when a friend emailed me an article she had just read, "Are Romantic Comedies Bad for Real-Life Romance?"
The article starts by asking

Do romantic comedies create and foster impossible expectations?  Are women doomed to disappointment when no man can possibly measure up to Lloyd Dobbler (Say Anything), William Thacker (Notting Hill) or Joe Fox (You've Got Mail)?

Why couldn't I have read this on, say December 30th?  It would have spared me a night of sitting on my couch and doing the ugly cry.  But, instead of just feeling sorry for myself, and to spare any other girls from being in the same situation, I have come up with a perfect idea: watch all the romantic comedies you want, but just turn them off before they get to the end.  I mean, seriously. What's in the middle of every romantic comedy, besides a montage set to a Harry Connick Jr. song?  The middle is when everything is falling apart.  Here are a few suggestions:

"Pretty Woman":
If you turn it off half way through, you only know that, after a fight and a black eye, Julia Roberts regretfully leaves the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, never to see Richard Gere again simply because he doesn't know where she lives.

"You've Got Mail"

Turn it off half way and Meg Ryan just thinks that her email suitor never showed up at the café because he found someone else to banter with and she'll be left to a life of unemployment and celibacy.


"Jerry Maguire"

Turn it off half way and Renee Zelwegger thinks Tom Cruise cares more about business than he does her, and she never has a chance to be gotten at "Hello."

Romantic comedies may set women up for a lifetime of disappointment, but, as far as I'm concerned, seeing Julia, Meg and Renee end up alone actually makes me feel like things are looking up.