This piece was submitted by Andrei Pomana, a PhD candidate in the School of Architecture.


 

I was driving around in Barbie, delivering delicious Uber Eats to my own students, when I found myself thinking about nothing but love stories. Ever since high school, when poor Mrs Istrate would try her best to get us excited about literature, I’ve had this slight disgust with love stories. They all seemed so unnecessarily complex at the time – like, love wasn’t even the important part. It was family, it was wealth, it was culture, war and betrayal.

Accept the order, press the pedal, push it in gear… let’s drive! Love is nothing like that…

I would be a complete wank if I didn’t admit that I enjoyed The Notebook, but I always had the feeling that, like most rom-coms, it was a bit too much. Love doesn’t happen like that. You don’t really get love at first sight, you can’t bully your way into a date, and doing grand gestures – like rebuilding an entire goddamn house – almost never gets the result you imagined in your head. All these stupid movies only give us the impression that love is, and should be, a roller-coaster.

I decelerate and shove the pink monster close to the driveway on the wrong side of the street. A cute blondie with a kid wrapped around her waist keenly waits for me outside the house: “You didn’t need to get out of the car, ha ha. Thank you! Have a nice night!” The kid pleasantly waves bye-bye. Fuck yes, blondie! Fuck yes! Love is fine…

Many rom-coms give us the impression that we can and we deserve. If you’re an awkward idiot with no friends and no money, who lives with his parents, you’re good. That hot chick will somehow see that you are wonderful and special. She will actively pursue you and fall for you without you doing anything. If you’re a dumb chick with ugly hair, a funny smell and the personality of a gorilla, a handsome, exciting and fascinating multi-millionaire will just drop out of nowhere and find himself hopelessly attracted to your boring ass.

Delivery to door: 54A Something Something Street, townhouse on the left. I walk to the entrance. The door is open, fly screen is open. What the fuck is happening here? I knock on the side of the door. “Hello?” Five seconds later, “Hello?” Five seconds later, “Hello?!” I open the app and call. Meighan C. The phone rings not even three metres from me. What the fuck is happening here? “Oh, Uber. You can come in if you want,” says a forty-something female smoker voice. What the fuck is happening here? I’m getting impatient! She comes from around the corner; I give her the food. “Have a good night!” And go fuck yourself! She was barely wearing a towel… On my way to the car, it hits me. Love is sick…

There is also this ridiculous fantasy with people that are already in a relationship – just not in the right one, or with the right person. For some reason, this wonderful girl is getting married to this complete douchebag and it’s up to the main male character to save her from this asshole. How fucking unlikely is that situation? Also, if someone is dating an asshole, stay the fuck away from them! They’re probably not as nice as they appear to be.

Number 2, scruffy short collective building. Which goddamn apartment, Uber gods? I get out of the car. Two butt-naked four-year-old twins come charging towards me. I freeze. Am I being staged? Is this how Epstein recruits people? “You leave the McDonalds with them,” yells almost-as-naked bogan mumma bear from the balcony. I let down the bags, get in the car and breathe. That’s not childhood! Love is fucked up…

I guess my biggest complaint is that these romantic movies are so unrealistic. If you’re a guy, these stories teach you how to be a creepy, lonely weirdo. If you’re a girl, they teach you how to find yourself in a toxic relationship or single for the rest of your life. Probably the same if you’re not in the gender/sexual majority. I now consider The Notebook a guilty pleasure, but La La Land? That’s a movie I’m not ashamed to admit I thoroughly enjoyed. No one cheats, no one’s family prohibits them from being together, there’s no hard breakup, there’s no excessive suffering, no one dies, there aren’t any ridiculous acts of self-sacrifice, here isn’t even a happily ever after!

It’s just love. The kind of love I wish I could love.

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