Feb 16, 2014 5 min read

There’s a movie in theaters right now called “Endless Love,” and its trailer sends me into an endless rage.

Call it an inconsequential fluff movie. The plot predictably follows two catalog-ready kids of different economic classes who fall in love and are kept apart by her parents.

But actually, this stupid movie does have consequences.

Fully formed adults can easily pick apart its message. Adults know teenaged love rarely lasts; that even the most passionate love eventually slides into routine; that love should not be obsessive and dangerous; that teenaged boys are not looking for life partners. But “Endless Love” is not meant for clear-eyed adults. It’s meant for teenage girls, who take this fictional message and shape their young lives around it.

Like me.

As I write this, it’s Valentine’s Day. A day that, in my teenaged years, brought me unparalleled misery. Me — always single and searching for soul-shattering, all-consuming love.

Despite being single and pining my way through my classes, my life was not devoid of boys. I wish it had been free of boys. But often I found myself involved with a boy who had all the bad-boy charisma of a movie lead but none of the devotion that makes the whole thing actually romantic.

If I just work harder, I thought, I can bring about the part where he loves me so much he’d dangle from the top of a Ferris wheel to prove it!

As you’d imagine, I got hurt. A lot.

I dated boys who were older than me, boys who liked my friends better, boys that lived in other states, and, once, a boy on house arrest.

This boy, who I met on the Internet, never told me the reason for his at-home incarceration. And like a good romantic heroine, I never asked. You see, I was looking past his behavior straight into his misunderstood soul.

And so I spent what I deemed a very romantic summer sneaking out of the house to see him after my parents told me I could not see him anymore.

The thing about my very romantic summer was that I don’t think this boy really cared if I came to see him or not. He just kind of sat on the couch and played video games while I sat next to him. Sometimes I colored pictures with his little sister. Because of the house arrest, we couldn’t go frolic in fields or skinny dip in a lake somewhere like they do in the movies. In fact, I think we only kissed once or twice that whole summer, and I’m pretty sure his eyes were on the TV the whole time.

Truth be told, I didn’t really like him all that much, either. But the star-crossed lover myth had taken hold of my teenaged brain, and I was going to be the girl who saw past the beeping ankle bracelet into the soul of a complicated and beautiful person who would love me more than anyone ever loved another person.

And then the illusion crumbled. I lied to my parents about going to “the movies” with a friend, and, when they asked me what movie we saw, I froze. I had neglected to prepare an answer to prop up my lie. I then realized he wasn’t worth the trouble I found myself in.

It could have been way worse. Again, I have no idea why this boy was on house arrest. It could have been drugs, violence, theft — who knows! And I could talk forever about how romantic movies often feature stalking and unhealthy obsession and trot it out as some kind of ideal. Girls then take that message all the way to abusive relationships, which seem romantic because they are intense and volatile.

“What’s more important than love?” asks the male lead in “Endless Love.”

Well, as I now realize at 30, when you’re 16, a lot of things are more important than love. Like college. Like figuring out what you want to do with your life and who you’ll be. Like spending time with friends before you all move on. Like thanking your parents for putting up with you.

Working for the Herald-Standard, I’ve interviewed lots of bright, driven teenagers who have packed their lives with volunteering, music lessons, AP classes, sports and learning foreign languages. I look back at my teenage years and see nothing but a blur of staring dreamily at my bedroom ceiling, waiting to be rescued by love.

And so I’m a little bitter.

But not too bitter. Despite the battle scars, I’ve found an awesome partner who is, as a matter of fact, playing video games beside me on the couch while I write this. The important difference (aside from his lack of house arrest ankle bracelet), is that 10 minutes ago he paused his game to go out in the cold and buy me a coffee, and every once in a while he looks over and smiles and gives me a kiss.

Jessica Vozel is originally from Perryopolis and, after attending graduate school and teaching in Ohio, now works as a freelance journalist and copywriter in the Pittsburgh area.