I’ve had it so far with those Hallmark amorous movies that my partner and wife insist we watch.
Granted, they’re “clean” with no foul language, gratuitous murder, or sex action, but the storylines leave a lot to be desired.
There is little imagination and a simple standard formula.
Boy meets girl again in a small American town is the underlying premise.
The girl comes from a successful career in a big city after years of absence to find out that the ex-boyfriend is still in town and is dating him.
If the movie is set in winter, there is always a bond on the rink where one shows each other and supports them on the ice.
Or the city has a Christmas show / festival that needs someone to save it from failure. Boy and girl bond to decorate the room and end up baking cookies together.
If the film set isn’t in winter, there is always a local festival that also needs a savior where boy and girl can bond.
Sometimes the daughter comes home to find that Mom and Dad need to retire and will either close the family store or sell the ranch. She realizes that she wants to take over – with a possible partnership of her newfound love.
Funny thing. There are no wholesalers in small towns America if you trust the Hallmark movies. Until a few seasons ago, black characters were rare. Now the occasional black character is coming in and sometimes even an LGBTQ couple.
As we watched one of the daily Christmas movies this year – a post-Halloween staging – Yours Truly suggested a boy meets girl twist romance.
The boy looks at her for the first time as she walks into the newsroom on her first day on the job. He notices that his shirt dress is well adjusted on certain parts of the body.
He and other men in the newsroom are ticked off. She is the first girl journalist hired at the newspaper to invade their reserve. What does a girl know about the story?
And her daily phone calls that convinced the editor to hire her call her an aggressive sack.
Girl and male journalist have a lot of discussions. He accuses her of being a hell of a feminist, teases that she probably doesn’t wear a bra.
His accidental line “I bet you can’t even cook” leads to their first “date” with the whole newsroom. She didn’t trust him.
They marry and mark 52 years together.
My partner wants to write the end. I agree.
And it’s: me sitting alone on the 53rd birthday watching a documentary on PBS.
OK I understand. I did a lot of things I didn’t want to have the privilege of hanging out with her. You might as well not stop now.
Ron Walter can be reached at [email protected]
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of this publication.