I’m trying to figure out
why I’m bummed out by a sitcom.
True confessions time. I
admitted to my Bible study group yesterday that the “drugs” I use to escape reality, or sometimes just relax (“recreational drugs”?) are food, sleep and
entertainment.
In the wake of being so
boldly transparent with my Christian sisters, I yielded to one of my three
temptations last night, after having an otherwise productive and meaningful
day. Specifically, I binge watched Rhoda, the old sitcom from the
70’s in which Mary Richards’ sidekick tries to make it on her own.
And she does in many important ways – building a career and forging strong
family bonds (despite a bumpy relationship with her stereotypically Jewish
mother!) – but in the realm of marriage, our
ugly-duckling-turned-successful-swan gets it way wrong.
After an eye-blinkingly
brief marriage, Rhoda’s handsome, rugged husband complains, “I’m not as happy
as I wanna be,” and persuades his tearful wife it’s in the best interest of
their marriage for him to take a hiatus to figure things out.
This would lead his
troubled wife to believe he's maybe planning a short vacation in a motel
to sort out his priorities. Heaven knows, after one failed marriage resulting
in shared custody of a son he seems to often shunt to the side, one would hope
he’d tread carefully before dissolving a second union. Instead, he finds
himself a dumpy apartment and proceeds to stick poor, estranged Rhoda with the
rent for the more comfortable apartment they had shared. Unable to keep up with
her bills, she’s forced to move to smaller digs after her Sir Galahad husband
counsels her not to get too attached to things.
The saddest part is,
Rhoda apologizes and begs her way through their whole separation, even as the
man she loves takes advantage of her vulnerability. Consider the following
slice of dialogue in the scene where Joe comes on to her when she graciously
delivers the dry cleaning tickets for his shirts, which didn’t need cleaning
but “were getting her depressed, hanging around here without [him] in them.”
Rhoda: I know what you’re
thinking.
Joe: Good. I wasn’t
trying to keep it a secret.
Rhoda: And it’s exactly what I’m thinking. It’s
exactly what the entire free world is thinking! And I am wrong. They’re wrong.
The world, you, me, all of us. And that’s not a good idea, Joe.
Joe (persuasively): I’m
not so sure.
Rhoda: Oh, come on, who’re you kidding? All we
would be doing is blocking out the real issues, Joe… The problem’ll still be
there in the morning. Y’know, it’s no solution, Joseph, really it isn’t…. What
I’m saying is, the problem is still there. All you’re really doing is taking
the pain away for a couple of minutes.
Joe (moving in
seductively): Well, what’s so bad about that?
Rhoda: … What’s bad is
that, when the pain comes back, it’s worse.*
Alas, Rhoda’s common
sense and resolve lose out to her hormones. Perhaps somewhere in her desperate mind – like so many women – she gambles
that, if she gives him what he wants, he'll love her. Whatever the reason, she throws caution to the wind. Arriving home the next morning, she’s met by her sister, Brenda, who excitedly exclaims, “You spent
the night at Joe’s! Oh!” Then realization sets in, and she adds sadly, “But
you came home alone. Oh!”
Why does this depress me
so? Because it’s true! Behind the pithy dialogue and attractive actors, we have
the whole saga of post-60’s America. Casual sex, no strings, broken hearts and
broken homes.
The saddest thing is,
naive Rhoda is reaping the results of failing to heed the obvious warning signs
that have been there all along. Her beloved Joe is only following through on
the framework he’s been laying since day one of their relationship. He doesn't
ask for her hand in marriage; he only asks her to move in. She has to cajole
him into stepping up to the altar. Perhaps her biggest mistake, though, is
allowing the officiant to wed them with the words, “Do you promise to stay
together, grow together, and to trust each other, as long as you both
shall love?”
Whatever happened to “as
long as you both shall live?” That one little letter makes all the difference in the world between one-night
stands – which is all Rhoda gets out of the above exchange with her own
husband, who (spoiler alert) ends up divorcing her anyway – and the intention
of persevering through thick and thin. I know it’s a long shot, and I’m well
aware of divorce statistics (heck, I’m one of them), but Joe and Rhoda’s vows
are more or less a prenuptial agreement wrapped up in pretty prose. The minute
the love starts to falter (and trust me, folks, it will – not necessarily
permanently, but life’s vicissitudes being what they are, the skyrockets are
surely gonna ebb and flow) – the minute that happens, both spouses have just vowed
to vamoose!
I see another major
problem in this whole story line. My friend, Anne, who listened to me rant when
I woke up bugged about it this morning, observed that Joe hides behind a veil,
so to speak. He doesn't define their relationship at the outset by establishing
plans for a life together, and he's just as unclear when he takes off for the
great unknown. Poor Rhoda is left trying unsuccessfully to permeate his veil of
vagueness, which is really nothing more than gross irresponsibility.
Why? Because Rhoda
hitched her sails to a guy with weak character. And character counts.
Despite the fact that
hordes of women have adapted their behavior to fit modern morality (or lack
thereof), I submit that we were much wiser when we expected more. When we
stopped requiring commitment as a prerequisite for intimacy, we handed over the
reins of our hearts along with the keys to our apartments.
Yes, we are fully
capable of supporting ourselves, buying our own meals at a restaurant, and
making our way home if the need arises. That’s not the point.
Chivalry doesn’t have to
be dead just because society has declared it outdated. If the dating process is
designed to be a prelude to marriage – an interview phase, as it were – why
should we be surprised when the men who enjoyed unearned dividends in advance
of the altar turn into husbands who tire of those dividends shortly after the
honeymoon?
Ladies, we can let our men have their cake and eat it, too – loveless sex and commitment-less
relationships – but Rhoda would tell us to expect to come home alone and pick
up our own tab – and not just for dinner.
“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also
loved the church and gave Himself for her, that He might sanctify and
cleanse her with the washing of water by the word, that He might present
her to Himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing,
but that she should be holy and without blemish. So husbands ought to love
their own wives as their own bodies; he who loves his wife loves himself. For
no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it, just as the
Lord does the church. For
we are members of His body, of His flesh and of His bones. ‘For this
reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the
two shall become one flesh.’ This
is a great mystery, but I speak concerning Christ and the church. Nevertheless
let each one of you in particular so love his own wife as himself, and let the
wife see that she respects her husband.” ~
Ephesians 5:25-33
*All dialogue taken
from Rhoda. “Together Again for the First Time.” Season 3, Episode
2. Directed by Tony Mordente. Written by Coleman Mitchell and Geoffrey Neigher.
CBS, September 27, 1976. Stage directions added by me.
Reflections by Thea: Someday My Prince Will Come ... and He Just May Be a Princess
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