my worst secret

So, my friend Jeanette recently aired her besetting sins in her blog ( Which gets me to thinking that perhaps I should reveal my greatest dark secret. Prepare to be shocked, ladies. (And gentlemen, too, I suppose, given what you might assume about women.)

Ready? I really didn’t like The Notebook. I know–it goes against all known laws of chickdom, apparently. Child #3 loved it, and she convinced me to sit down with some popcorn (kettle for me, butter for her) and watch every girl’s favorite flick.
“He climbs the ferris wheel, mom, and tells her she has to go out with him or he’ll fall! Isn’t that romantic?”
Being a mom, my reaction was slightly different. “No, it is not romantic; it’s kind of stalkerish, and if anyone ever behaves that way around you, I’ll probably call the police.” Way to quench the budding romantic in my child, right?
Now, I have read plenty of romance novels in the past. I love princess movies. I would cry at a good Walmart commercial. So I am not unromantic. But I don’t get it. And here’s the crucial problem for me–I really don’t want a man who would turn into a sad drunk hermit just because he lost the girl. That’s not romantic. I want a guy with more self-worth than that. I want to be a women with more self-worth than that.
I have to wonder, if a man isn’t strong enough to live without me, even if he desperately doesn’t want to, will he be strong enough to live with me through the struggles of life and marriage and family? Just a question for my daughters. Any daughters. A question I hope they ponder carefully when romance seems like the ultimate goal and thoughts of life thereafter hang out in that hazy place called, “Oh, nothing like that will ever happen to us.”
So where’s the balance? Watching and reading things to escape is fun. Sometimes necessary. But I guess I don’t want my three daughters getting their notion of what it means to be female and find romance from most of them. Sweet nothings are great, but as someone else put real love better–
“Dear children, let’s not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by our actions.” 1 John 3.18

3 thoughts on “my worst secret

  1. I knew I loved you, Jill! I did NOT like this movie, either, but for a different reason. I hated seeing the girl fling herself at him in public by running and straddling him every time she saw him–it made me sick. And it was so unrealistic for a story set in the 40's. NO WAY would girls in that era do that, unless they wanted to have a certain rep. I'm with you, but up until today, I thought I was alone–thanks for being my comrade!

    And thanks for the link to my honesty post!


  2. Hey Jill, you emailed me about your kids and stms book…which brought me here, and I came across this post. Who can resist something called “my worst secret”? I couldn't bring myself to watch the movie after being trapped on a roadtrip with an audio version of the book. I HATED it. To be sure, I picked it out at the library, and I could have turned it off, but I kept thinking surely it would turn away from its message that sexual desire is inexorable and justifies anything.


  3. Thank you. Good to know titles work! And good to know other women feel the same way. After seeing you bio info on your blog, I'm not surprised. Anyone who agrees with me on Hugo, Lewis, Gladwell, and L'Engle has got good taste!


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