It’s February, dear reader. The month of roses, chocolate and Cupid’s arrows. I’m a romantic, y’all. A hopeless, bona fide Harlequin- slash- Lifetime movie romantic. I’ve followed the great fictional romances of our TV obsessed generation- Ross and Rachel, Monica and Chandler, Niles Crane and Daphne, Addison and Sam, Buffy and Angel, Dr Mc Dreamy and Meredith- you name it, I’ve watched it. To me, there’s no better moment in a movie than when star crossed lovers finally fall into each other’s arms in the perfect earth shattering kiss.
However, there’s one TV romance that I just can’t get into, dear reader. Scandal. You know what I’m talking about, Scandal – the TV show. Where the impeccable, always- clad- in -white Olivia Pope, played by the impossibly lush Kerry Washington carries on a searing, affair with the married President of United States against the back drop of the shocking misadventures of Washington’s upper crust, where finding random dead bodies and uncovering conspiracies seems to be the order of the day. We, the adoring viewers hold our collective breaths as they proceed to bump and grind in the Oval office, sneak kisses in the woods and make hot, steamy love in Olivia’s bedroom. And yes, our heart strings were communally yanked when Mr. President briefly casts her off over dinner- leaving her a sobbing and yet gorgeous mess.
Now, before you devotees tear me a new one on Facebook, this is my disclaimer. I get that it is fiction. TV. Make believe. Ratings candy. I also understand that I too am human and may one day find myself doing the horizontal tango with my very married soul mate while he makes babies and runs a nation with his wife, therefore I should not judge. This is my problem. Love, REAL love is hard. It’s not all about heaving bosoms, searing passion, and unfulfilled sexual angst. It’s hard, deliberate work. You have to give a whole lot and tolerate even more. You study your mate and live with him or her according to wisdom. You forgive compromise, apologize, cook, clean, bathe babies, pay bills. Some days you don’t feel in love, but you keep going till it comes back. Sometimes you need counseling to get you over a rough patch. It is a constant work in progress. Now, knowing all that, I have a teeny weeny bit of a problem when we sit and salivate over adultery (yeah, I said it), even if it’s fictional. The Scandal type of love is a selfish, pale imitation of the real deal. Believing that anything meaningful can be sustained with Scandal’s brand of love is like, as the playwright Jo De Graft says, ‘seeing through a film darkly’.
Yes, the heaving bosoms and ever throbbing groins seem sexy, but that won’t cut it. So, turn off the TV and break out the elbow grease, fellow romantics- go get your love!
About the Writer
Ewurama Hayford learned to write by penning romance novels to cope with the tedium of Math class in high school. She enjoys writing and reading fiction, and is currently working on an anthology of short stories inspired by life in the diaspora. In her other life, she works as a nurse practitioner for a bustling family practice, where she draws inspiration from her glimpses into other people’s lives. When she isn’t writing, reading, photographing or nursing, she makes her home in Hartford, Connecticut with her husband Isaac and their little boy.