Because it makes my skin crawl to see couples be all mushy over each other when you know, you just know, it's not the whole truth? Someone's lying. Someone's cheating. Someone's suppressed something somewhere. Someone's relying very heavily on cheap brandy and Ambien.
Because I'd rather claw out my eyes with a mai tai umbrella than see any more of those teddy beary, sugary sweetness, rainbows and butterflies blogs about perfect little families and their perfect little lives when I know, and would bet money, that at least 37% of them are destined for the next episode of SNAPPED!?!?
Because I'm finally beginning to wonder if this entire nauseating idea of true love and soul mates and forever was not just some big marketing ploy concocted to continue to sell Bonnie Raitt and Keith Urban albums?
But does that make me a hater?
I mean, granted, my glass is a little less than half full these days. And yes, that does tend to weigh slightly on a girl's natural optimism and hopelessly romantic ideals.
But give me a break, people. Maybe if I wouldn't have been raised in a society that glamorized Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella and Joanie loving Chachie and Danny going nerdy for Sandy and Sandy going ghetto for Danny and An Officer and A Gentleman swooping up Debra Winger and Bud swooping up after whooping up Sissy (who also happened to be Debra Winger -- the 80s were definitely good to that girl) and Richard Gere sacrificing his gerbil-lovin' tendencies for a two-bit whore with a four-bit smile and Harry finding Sally and Sally finally letting him after giving all passive-aggressives a bad name for eternity but then going on to find Tom Hanks in Seattle but also in a volcano and on email, slut that she is, and all the other inane displays of happily ever after, maybe the shock of being dumped at 39 with two 6-year-olds, two dogs, and a lifetime of empty promises and dreams wouldn't hurt so fucking much today.