The bromance could just be the long-term commitment that men are looking for these days.
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Once upon a time in grade school, when that one girl or boy we will never forget sat next to us, we began to wonder about our happily ever after. We rarely admit to it, but when no one is looking, what can we do but picture our final ride into the sunset that turns just about all of us into love-struck fools. What if though, in our foolishness, we fail to realize hat romance is not the best road to that sunset? What if bromance is “as just as fair, and having perhaps the better claim”?
As I sit here writing this, I am trying to think of story that illustrates my idea of a happy ending. I am doing my best to sell myself on The Notebook or Love Actually, but it is House and Wilson riding their motorcycles to nowhere in the series finale of House that keeps barging into my head, making even the story of Juliet and her Romeo pale in comparison.
For those who are not familiar with House, the show is about a genius doctor, Gregory House, with a blunt and above-the-law personality that drives everyone around him insane or away. There are two main romantic interests in his life, there is a handful of friendly-enough coworkers, and there is James Wilson, his bro. Wilson is a levelheaded, patient oncologist that does not get much screen time; however, when he is there, that is when House usually figures out the unlikely diagnosis that has been puzzling everyone the entire hour. They are the classic hero-foil duo, in great part based on Holmes and Watson.
But I am an undying romantic, capable of falling in love at the drop of a hat.
So how can a grumpy Englishman and his mild-mannered buddy be my happy ending?
The reason is simple. In the end (spoiler alert), when Wilson has 6 months to live and House has a 6 month prison sentence to serve, House stages his own death and gives up his entire existence (or signs up for a much longer incarceration) to spend those six months with his friend. Why? For no reason at all. They had nothing to gain from one another. This was not a prudent decision for either one of them.
An utterly irrational decision, it is the fairest of them all.
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Romantic encounters, however, tend to be rational. Each person holds what the other covets, and so the two are drawn to each other for very specific reasons. Those reasons vary of course, but are reasons nonetheless. On the most basic level, we are all looking to get some action. As soon as that deal is signed, sealed, and delivered a few times, and there is nothing else to be desired, the lovers move on. On a more powerful level, one person may need a muse; the other, a hero. Historically, this has been the foundation for most romantic relationships because, either by nature or through nurture, men tend to protect and women tend to empower. However, once they find their inspiration and reach their safety, those needs vanish and, once again, the lovers move on. In other words, since the initial romantic draw is rooted in some reasonable need, once that need is met, the reason disappears, and the draw is gone.
Some might reasonably point out that far too many of us chose worst possible partners, thereby proving that reason is the last thing driving our mating habits. But I am not claiming that we are driven exclusively by good reasons. Just reasons. And those come in all shapes and sizes. For example, when you choose to date the woman you are fairly certain will smash your windshield if you ever cause her to have a bad day, you are still dating her for a reason. My guess, you need a “bad girl” at the moment because you are unhappy where you are and so want to flip your world upside down.
I have certainly dated some crazy ones for that very reason! They do a fantastic job getting us to move onto the next chapter.
As much as we may want to believe that our loves are not governed by reason, we select our mates in a more regimented manner than we select our lunches. In the cafeteria, it is a “Hmm, what do I feel like at the moment” type of selection process. When it comes to love, however, we have a rather hefty checklist.
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Our first box to check off: gender. Most of us cut our prospects in half by being interested in either men or women. And there is no room for negotiations here because whatever tickles your pickle is what will tickle your pickle. Then comes the age box. For undeniably good reasons, most of us stay within our decade. However, that narrows it down to about 7% of the population.
Next, appearance! If you look around, you will quickly notice that we either choose or are forced to play within our league, which is measured on a scale of 1 to 10 and allows for just a single deviation in either direction. So we are now down to about 2%. Sprinkle various requirements for political affiliation and educational history, and we are at approximately 1%. I would also include social standing, financial stability, and ethnic background, but no one likes to admit to caring about those, so let us do what we do so well and see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil.
One percent sounds horrible though! Fret not, there are over seven billion people in the world, so all hope is not lost. Though I suppose we are not all over the world, but rather just in one place. Still, in New York City, that gives us about 85,000 people to pick from; in Los Angeles, about 186,000. So our search continues–in Los Angeles, apparently, if you want to double your odds.
In case this does not sound unromantic enough for you, let us look at what happens when we do find the one we seek.
First, the gents must calculate two (or is it three now) months of their gross salary and blow it on a blood diamond because even Leonardo DiCaprio cannot convince their ladies to give up a shiny object. Once again though, let us see no evil, hear no evil, and certainly speak no evil. So child soldiers aside, here comes the bride, all dressed in white, straight from the municipal office where she and her beloved stood in line, filled out a form, paid a fee, and changed their Facebook status. Why? Well, if it all goes to hell one day, it would be nice to have legal standing to sue your ex-lover for half of what he is worth.
From our first date to our wedding day, reason lingers in the background and steers us along the way. And what’s the divorce rate these days?
Bromance, on the other hand, lasts because it is irrational.
There are no gender requirements, no age restrictions, no bloody diamonds, and no one cares what you look like. Just House and Wilson riding their motorcycles into the sunset, not “completing” each other in the least. In fact, those two annoyed the hell out of each other most of the time and had practically nothing in common other than their profession. No dating app algorithm would ever match up those two mates.
The reason they were together is simply because they felt like it.
Just imagine the sense of belonging you would feel if someone ever wanted to be with you not because you protect them, elevate them, amuse them, support them, but just because. And yes, it would certainly be convenient if House and Wilson connected at the crotch as much as they did at the core. Thankfully, there appears to be a one percent chance that they will.
For us dumb and dumber romantics, this is definitely “saying that there is a chance.” However, it is the bromantic core, not the romantic crotch, that holds our happily ever after.
So do not let convenience direct the story of life.
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Photo: oFace Killah/Flickr
I have a different opinion on all that. Understanding that you are just using the word we’ve assigned and accepted for men, are that hopeless romantic (which is not at all a bad thing), and are trying to help. I agree with the basic thesis statement, I respectfully disagree (as is often the case these days) with the process. It is not what we need, not if we keep calling it “bro-mance”. Not if we keep thinking of it as platonic romance, or trying to force guys to be what others have labeled, what others expect so as to make… Read more »