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Are Fictional Men the Harbingers of Romance Death?

Rachael Rich Student Contributor, University of South Florida
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at USF chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

Now, more than ever, we see the pandemic of fictional men taking over. We love Gojo Satoru, Levi Ackerman, Leon S. Kennedy, and we love seeing them in action on-screen. We also love
 imagining ourselves by their side. They have playlists dedicated to them, “x reader” fanfiction on sites like AO3 (gulp!) that allow readers to imagine themselves in romantic scenarios with them, and more Etsy merch than I can keep track of. How many Gojo cosplays have you seen on Instagram? How much fanart? Maybe you’ve seen the occasional life-size cardboard cutout of him, too? (Note: he’s around 6’3.) 

But does the popularity of these unreal men also reveal some unreal expectations? Not only unreal as in ridiculous, but unreal as in nonexistent. Gojo might be perfect in those Instagram edits you see of him with SexyBack playing in the background, but 
 beware. He doesn’t actually know who you are. 

A common complaint I see about these men online is that they are impossible to emulate for men in real life. Of course, using the aforementioned examples, it’s unlikely (or plain impossible) we might find ourselves romantically involved with a jujutsu sorcerer, a titan-killing machine, or a secret agent working directly for the American president. They’re fantastical occupations that take place in worlds completely different from ours. In reality, those guys probably don’t have time for love! Still, this otherworldliness might be what draws women to them—we eat up the prospect of a man who is cool, brave, and has some sort of skill we don’t witness in our everyday lives. 

Plus, fictional men aren’t just 2-D anymore
 they’ve integrated themselves into our three-dimensional plane, too. It’s easier than ever to imagine you simply have a long-distance boyfriend, rather than face the reality that you’re interacting with code on your phone screen. Take Love and Deepspace, an otome (read: dating) game where a cast of five fictional men text you, call you, and even let you know when your period starts. Yes, the app has a period tracker. No, it’s definitely not creepy at all! But if the defense I’ve seen online is true—that these men are received well because of the way they treat the player—then why do detractors claim the standard set by these men and their artificial affection is impossible for “real men” to achieve? Perhaps the whole package is daunting. Who can possibly compete with an all-powerful, superintelligent, impossibly attractive man who somehow has an amazing work-life balance?

This amazing YouTube video by Christina Aaliyah explains an interesting skill she learned from Logan Ury’s book How to Not Die Alone: how to settle. “Settling isn’t 
 going out with a person way below your level of standard,” Christina says. Instead, she suggests settling is finding that lovely, charming, kind person you see yourself spending the rest of your life with—yet accepting the areas where you two may not be 100% compatible. In other words, accepting their flaws, and choosing not to abandon them in pursuit of an absolutely perfect, or nonexistent, person instead. “You have to differentiate a red flag and a non-negotiable from a flaw that someone has,” she continues, “because we all have flaws, but we never sit and think, ‘What are the flaws I’d happily accept my partner has?’” This is all something we should consider: not all flaws are bad. Maybe the guy you like isn’t a blonde surfer boy like you’d prefer, but is it really a big deal if he has black hair instead? Or maybe your boyfriend always forgets to take his shoes off before walking through your front door. But are these dealbreakers? I don’t mean to say that you should tolerate blatant disrespect or unwillingness to change—but consider what expectations you have that simply cannot be met and how they fare against things that are correctable.

It’s crucial for us to remind ourselves that these characters are not bachelors. They’re characters. If anything, they’re meant to teach us about how we might live our lives and the consequences of our choices through their on-screen or on-page experiences. They also teach us that nobody is perfect—the best part about humanity is our ability to make mistakes because we can correct them; we aren’t confined to the page or the screen like our dream guys are. Instead, we get to curate our own lives. So, even though we might want a perfect, prepackaged man who we don’t have to go through the motions with, they’re a necessary part of forging and maintaining romantic connections. We learn through growth, and while the goal is to minimize the number of misgivings to be had, relationships aren’t a black-and-white, yes-or-no ordeal. Even someone who has been in a lot of relationships still might not know how to navigate every issue to be had, so it’s meaningless to expect any given person, fictional or not, to have some inherent knowledge on how to fix everything and ensure perfection. 

So, while there are enough fictional men to go around, be conscious of what the implications of your obsession are. To project their appearance and personality onto your partner? Or because you acknowledge their flaws, and love them anyway—as a person, not a suitor, even if playing as their lover wouldn’t be so bad? It’s never just because they’re hot.

Rachael Rich is a matcha-loving, Oxford-comma-supporting English major with a Creative Writing concentration at USF. Her work has been previously published in Thread Magazine.

When she is not reading or thinking about writing, she can be found scrolling Goodreads, thrifting vintage M&M bric-a-bracs, or creating Spotify playlists.