About Rom-Coms

I love rom-coms

All of them- well that’s too generous most of them. I don’t actually like the ones where they force Paula Patton on us. She plays the same character in every movie. A kinda dainty, mostly aloof, well dressed fool who falls in love. Now, I know I have a lot to work through regarding my disdain for Paula Patton. I think it was that chicken frying video where she seasoned the meat after it was in the grease. She’s not rooted. 

Anyway, back to rom-coms. I’ve noticed that a good rom-com has a few elements. 

-a break up or divorce

-a trip to some small cottage 

-some really cute local person 

-or a guy from high school they really hated who has now magically developed emotional intelligence.

-a moment where they almost ruin it because it’s too good to be true

-maybe there’s a dance scene or a Christmas play 

-there’s always a magical first kiss 

-they typically live happily ever after 

And here’s the thing, I’ve been struggling to think of one Black rom-com that didn’t develop a struggle love. 

Name some Black Rom Coms- you’ll likely say

Love & Basketball 

Best Man 

Jumping the Broom 

The Photograph, perhaps. 

Sprung 

Hav Plenty which can only be found on pirated copies of dvd 

The Liddles with Kelly Rowland 

Any movie with Taye Diggs, Morris Chestnut 

And one Black person will consider Hitch a Black Rom-Com because of Will Smith. But he was one of two Black ppl on the whole set. I don’t believe Harriet lived and died for that to count as one. 

So if I were to write my own Black rom-com, it would involve a Black woman, late 30s, with a great group of friends. She’d be dressed in the largest sweatpants in her collection, hair gently tied back, talking to her homegirl from back home when she’d to grab the same overpriced avocado at the Co-op as the love of her life. They’d lock eyes and she’d be too nervous to acknowledge it. He’d be in some altered state. They’d meet again at Spring Mill Bakery as he purchased the last loaf of country Black bread. Even the bread in my rom-com would be Black. She’d be leaving in a rush out of the bakery and her scarf would get caught in the door. He’d manage to untangle her and make some joke about them running into each other. He wouldn’t miss the opportunity to ask her for coffee. They’d meet at Takoma Bev for coffee, then head to Motorkat for happy hour, and finish with Tom Ka soup from Kin Da. She’d be too nervous after having curry for a first kiss, but he’d be brave enough to ask. They’d kiss under the archway. They’d go in a few days and fizzle out when the air of spring called them back outside. They'd manage to meet one last first time in the co-op picking up another overpriced avocado. They’d decide to actually take it seriously. One year later, he’d get his wealthy grandmother’s ring from Sag Harbor. She’d secretly hate the ring. They’d have a big fight 6 weeks before the wedding about who was moving into whose overpriced, underwhelming apartment. They’d consider calling off the wedding only to be threatened severely by their parents who “ain’t got no money to waste.” Or the other phrase about money not growing on trees. They’d figure out their conflict. They find a new, more expensive, but shared place. Her friends would throw her a bachelorette party and they’d all wake up early on the day of the wedding to be graced with pressing curls and flat irons. The hotel room would smell like Sebastian hair spray and burnt hair. When they got to the altar, he would’ve switched out the ring to something her best friend kept in a Google Doc of her wedding preferences. Oval cut, gold, good clarity. They’d have what they called a small wedding, but it would be about 200 people. They’d exchanged wonderfully awkward vows comparing love to fruit or something, then go to Mexico like every good Black person does for the honeymoon. 10 months later, morning sickness would visit. A year and a half, 8 days, 4 minutes later, she’d read her email saying her student loans had been canceled. That excitement would push her into labor wherein she felt no pain, had great doctors who listened to Black women and excellent post-partum care. She’d deliver a Black child that would grow up without needing therapy from parental and racism trauma. And the most romantic part of her story would be the debt cancellation. 

As y’all can see, MGM hasn’t knocked on my door yet for the story, but I’m still hoping.

My Black Rom-Com at least centered the authentic nature of being Black in this economy.