The Single Girl and Her Living RomCom

Hey there, Gal Pals (and Guy Pals too),

As I'm sitting here plotting the second half of my full-length RomCom novel (you'll love it!), I'm reflecting on the irony of being a single girl writing romantic comedies. I think my love for the RomCom comes from my dating frenzies in the past (and likely in the future). You know how it goes. You meet a guy. He's nice, cute, and you think - hey, this could lead to something great! Then, you start dating. Sometimes, it goes well. Sometimes, just okay. Things always seem to happen though. Maybe the guy says something that rubs me the wrong way. Maybe he ends up being a bore or thinks he's funnier than he is. Sometimes, a sexist jerk comes around, and occasionally, the problem is me.

I'm a klutz sometimes, especially if I'm nervous or rushed. I'm one of those gals that can plan things to the letter only to have them backfire on me at the last minute. Example: I once hosted a birthday dinner for the mother of a guy I was dating. She didn't like cake; she was a pie woman. I baked her favorite chocolate pie using her recipe that my boyfriend got for me without her knowledge - a surprise for her. The pie was beautiful. I was so proud of it. My boyfriend brought her to my apartment that evening for dinner. He was an only child and she was a single woman, so it ended up being just the three of us. I showed her around my small apartment, and in the kitchen, I picked up the pie to show her my handiwork. Turning around to face her, I somehow managed to trip myself and the pie went right in her face.

She was none too pleased. I made things worse when I tried to help her clean the pie away and ended up smearing it onto her blouse - a blouse that had been white and beautiful when she arrived but then looked like she'd been cradling an infant with a runny dirty diaper. During this chaos, I forgot I had a meatloaf in the oven, but fortunately the smell of smoke reminded me. It was too late though; the loaf was burned.

My boyfriend tried to calm the situation by uncorking a bottle of red wine. He poured three glasses and we sat at my small table. I was a nervous wreck and fully embarrassed at that point. When he set my glass in front of me and I reached for it, my unsteady hand hit it and wine went everywhere - including on the mother who was seated beside me. Covered in chocolate pie and red wine stains, she stood and gathered her purse and coat, bringing the evening to an end. My boyfriend left with her, barely giving me a kiss on the cheek as he frantically escorted her out the door.

The next day, I got a phone call from him - the last time I'd ever hear from him. He apologized and broke up with me all in the same sentence. Apparently, he couldn't be with someone that his mother loathed as much as she loathed me. I understood considering what had happened, but I was devastated. Temporarily, anyway. After crying for about an hour, I called my favorite gal pal and sobbed out the story of what had happened. Although she was sympathetic, she couldn't hide her laughter as she tried to comfort me. It was only then that I was able to see the humor in what had happened and laugh about it with her.

So yes, pals, my life is a living RomCom in progress. I still haven't found Mister Right, or even a suitable Mister Right Now, but that doesn't mean I've given up. The trick is finding a Mister Right that also sees me as his Miss Right. I'll never be perfect. I'll always be sort of a klutz, and I'll make mistakes along the way, but so will my Mister Right. Hopefully, we'll eventually meet up, and when we do, I just pray I don't put a pie in his mother's face when meeting her.

All of this, I believe, is why I am a fan and a writer of Romantic Comedies. We have to learn to laugh at life's mishaps like I learned to laugh at destroying my own relationship by putting a chocolate pie in my then-boyfriend's mother's face on her birthday and following that up by drenching her with red wine. Accidents happen, and sometimes they are the cause for a break-up, but if we learn to laugh at them and move on, we'll be right back on that road to finding our very own Happily Ever After.

On a Side Note: Not all of the pie went on the mother. What was left in the tin ended up being devoured before I went to bed that night and it was really good! I also finished the bottle of wine. So, all in all, the evening wasn't a complete waste!

Much love, Jenn 💋