I Hate Summer

When I’m watching a coming of age movie where the male protagonist gets his heart broken, I can’t help but feel insulted by the idea of a movie about heartbreak. The movie, (500) Days of Summer, immediately comes to mind when I’m thinking about this subject. Everyone goes through heartbreaks, but what makes their heartbreak so special that it deserves its own movie? Not only do I find the protagonist’s misery annoying, but I just don’t get what they see in what they believe is the perfect girl. She’s a bitch - just move on already! Just kidding. To be fair, I feel that each of our own story of heartbreak is so personal that its full significance is apparent only to ourselves. After all, even my own friends have been annoyed with me for being miserable after a breakup because they don’t understand why I can’t just move on. So maybe I’m no different from these heartbroken protagonists and my resentment of their story is misplaced. But why do these kinds of movies keep getting made? Is it really because the filmmaker arrogantly thinks his story of heartbreak is so important that it deserves to be told? If I were to give the filmmaker the benefit of the doubt, I would argue that the point of coming-of-age movies involving heartbreak is not to seek validation for their own personal story, but rather, it is an attempt by the creator of the movie, not just to entertain, but to help themselves, and the viewer, understand and come to terms with their own heartbreak.

I am ready to admit that even my own story of heartbreak is not exceptional enough to be told on screen, as it will not be adding anything new to an already overcrowded genre. In terms of a protagonist, I am no different from Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s character, Tom, in (500) Days of Summer. I possess an almost similar personality, background, and level of naiveté when it comes to relationships. The character of Summer, the object of Tom’s affections, is almost no different from the girl that broke my heart. In fact, (500) Days of Summer happens to be one of her favourite movies, which infuriated me because I could imagine her thinking that I am Tom and she is Summer. I don’t want to be Joseph Gordon-Levitt. I’m different. I’m special. I’m stronger than him. I won’t have my heart broken by a girl like Summer. Try as I might to avoid a similar fate, my story ended up the same way. I did not get the girl. But the experience transformed my life.

So just how did my story of heartbreak change me? First of all, the relationship itself brought me out of my shell. In its initial stages, when things were still good, it truly made me feel that anything was possible and that the universe was working in my favour. I became more outgoing and where in the beginning I hated the world around me, the girl I fell in love with made me see its beauty. Then, as things soured between us, I came face to face with the monster inside of me: fear, anger, and depression threatened to consume me. I couldn’t do anything without being reminded of my breakup. I remember going out with my friends to help forget my troubles and a song that had a title that matched my ex’s name popped up on the radio at a restaurant. I couldn’t watch TV without seeing my ex’s name pop up there too, or the plot of a show reminding me about my breakup. I couldn’t even sleep because I would have terrible dreams of her being with another guy.

Every day, I slipped deeper into depression. As I tried desperately to cling to what‘s left of my sanity, I stumbled upon an unexpected change to my daily routine. Out of the blue and without having prior interest in it, I took up running. I found the exhaustion would help numb me from the depression that I was feeling, and I was reminded of the scene from the movie, Forest Gump, when he went for an epic run across the country. Slowly, as I increased my distance, I began to tap into the coveted runners’ high. Before long, I was running up the steepest hills, making multiple laps on an oval and as winter rolled around, I started to look into a gym membership so I could continue running indoors, on a treadmill.

At the gym, I made new friends. I added weight training to my repertoire. Soon, I reached a level of emotional stability where I was able to start talking to my ex comfortably again. She was doing alright with her new boyfriend and I tried my best to be a supportive friend. I found that despite the heartbreak that I experienced, I still loved her. And despite just being her friend, it was still better than nothing at all. Sometimes, the feelings of depression threatened to rear its ugly head but I managed to beat it down again with my regular gym routine. My gym friends turned out really awesome. My perfect attendance at the gym gained me somewhat of a reputation and it got to a point where everyone at the gym became my friend. We were one big happy family, finding strength in one another while dealing with our own personal struggles.

The year following my breakup, I ran my very first 10K race and finished at an above average time, for a first timer. A year later, I was jumping out of a moving plane. Me going skydiving was rather unexpected, but it was an impulsive reaction to a threat to my newfound inner peace. My continued contact with my ex revealed relationship troubles between her and her boyfriend. I still had feelings for her and it was clear her boyfriend wasn’t treating her well. I struggled with that but all I could do was be a good listening ear. Then one day, it seemed they had worked through their problems and it was smooth sailing once more. I lost touch with my ex again after that. I thought it was a good time to make my exit from her life, seeing as her relationship was going well.

I carried on with my life and along with gyming, I found several new hobbies. I took up swimming, golfing, snowboarding, basketball, hiking, travelling, and photography. It felt like there was a whole new “me.” I even found a new love interest at the gym. But it was short-lived. We broke up and just as I was starting to feel depressed about it, my old ex texted me out of nowhere. She later revealed that she, too, broke up with her boyfriend. I immediately took it as a sign. This was it, this was my second chance. It was all going to work out and we would live happily ever after. I went all in, complete with grand gestures straight out of a cheesy romcom, like holding up a sign that said, “to me, you are perfect” which I borrowed from a pathetic character in the movie, “Love, Actually.” It would‘ve been brilliant had they worked, but these grand gestures accomplished nothing. Our old issues resurfaced and it wasn’t long before we broke up again, this time for good. Surprisingly, it did not bother me.

So what are the lessons here? What have I learned? I wish I could say that I discovered a way to get through a rough breakup but the truth is, I think I just got lucky. I found something that gave me peace, but I’m not sure it can be easily duplicated as it might not work the same for everyone. Even though my coming-of-age story didn’t have a feel-good movie ending, I think I still came away from it a better person. The way I see it, life is not a movie and the world does not revolve around us. You can’t take it personally when things don’t go your way and you can’t just hate someone for not liking you because you only see one side of the story. Furthermore, you can’t always rely on movie cliches like “never give up on the one you love” or “love conquers all.” These may save relationships in movies, but they could easily turn toxic in real life.