I just watched a few seconds of Glee before Micky changed the channel. I didn’t mind, I don’t watch Glee. I saw enough this time, though, to make me think.
The handsome guy was talking to a woman who mentioned in the few sentences I heard that she was forty. This had me gobsmacked, because she looked older. I take exception to people looking way old and claiming they’re forty, because I have quite a few friends who are forty who don’t look even remotely as old as that, and when I reach that milestone I know for a fact I’m not going to look that old, either.
But that’s not the central point. What struck me, is something I’ve seen before: the message coming through loud and clear is that the be-all and end-all of life is romance.
It might be easy to say when you’ve found your prince, when you’ve lived the little-girl’s-dream of babies and a home of your own, but I find this disconcerting. There’s sooooooo much more to life, so many adventures to have, so much to see and do. I wonder often if there’s not danger in the concerted media effort of projecting the romance game as the most important thing in the world.
