A few weeks ago, the number one movie in the country was the chick flick He’s Just Not That Into You. The movie featured a quintet of charming women who were all incidentally looking for love, and only love. Career? Eh. Family? Pooh pooh. Happiness? Well of course… as long as it’s got a diamond ring attached.
To me, the women in the movie would have made Susan B. Anthony turn in her grave. They were caricatures of the worst attributes in the female populace: needy, obsessive, and undeniably crazy, fawning shamelessly after their male counterparts. I didn’t enjoy the movie all that much, but then again, it was hard to relate: the only time that I shamelessly hunt down men is when they’re serving h’or dourves. I’m not a huge fan of romance novels, winking emoticons, or using “heart” as a verb.
But that’s not to say that I don’t appreciate a good love story. Like so many others, I became addicted to ABC’s The Bachelor this winter, with Jason Mesnick. I watched while Jason played the role of the charming, sensitive dad from Seattle. I watched him make heartbreaking decisions week after week, until it was finally down to two, Molly and Melissa. I watched as he proposed to Melissa, and broke Molly’s heart in New Zealand… And then I watched him pull a little switcheroo in the “After the Final Rose” follow up, revoking his love for Melissa and asking Molly to take him back.
Uh yeah. If there is any reason for my cynicism, it’s this guy.
During the show, I was G-chatting and exchanging text messages with a few friends. Some immediate reactions from the peanut gallery after Jason’s big announcement:
“I feel like I just found out Santa Claus isn’t real.”
“I could throw something.”
“Please don’t date a douchebag… This definitely makes me reevaluate the way I treat girls.” (Thanks, AV)
My problem with the whole thing is that it’s just another example of a woman getting screwed over by a man, and then running right back into his arms. Just like in HJNTIY, it astounds me that we continue to chase after d-bag guys. Molly, if he liked you then he would’ve put a ring on you… the first time. He wouldn’t have let you go, and he certainly wouldn’t have proposed to another woman. In essence, you don’t deserve to be treated like crap. (Ahem, Rihanna, are you paying attention?)
In the end, I imagine Susan B. Anthony on the silver dollar, rolling her eyes: “Well, it looks like we haven’t made much progress on the feminist front… Damn, I can’t believe I busted my ass for this. Women empowerment? Please. If I could do it all again, I’d just get married. I want some of that Rutherford B. Hayes. Mmm hmm.” Go get ‘im, girl.