I Feel Like a Tom; I Don’t Want to Be One.
A Little Context: Tom?
If you know me, you’d probably know that I’m quite the sucker for “cheesy” stories, be it in films, books, comics, or even just random short stories that I came about when I was dabbling in the Internet. From the magnificently written Percy-Annabeth relationship in the Percy Jackson and The Olympians Series, to even the slightest bit of romance in webtoons, I’m a sucker for one, and so I’m pretty sure this post is going to be really cheesy (and probably a little cringe). Anyway, this post is going to be full of spoilers for 500 Days of Summer and (possibly) a few for other pieces of pop culture, so just be warned before moving on.
To give a little context, the title of this post is taken from one film that resonates with me to this day, it’s Marc Webb’s directorial debut: “500 Days of Summer”. The movie centers on Tom, a worker in a greeting card company who met the person whom he thought was the love of his life; they met, they dated, they broke up, Tom was heartbroken, Tom finally managed to move on. It’s a very simple story. Yet one thing that I want to focus on in this post is not the plot of the movie per se, I’d like to focus more on “Tom”, and what his actor, Joseph Gordon-Levitt describes him to be:
“The (500) Days Of Summer attitude of ‘He wants you so bad’ seems attractive to some women and men, especially younger ones. But I would encourage anyone who has a crush on my character to watch it again and examine how selfish he is. He develops a mildly delusional obsession over a girl onto whom he projects all these fantasies. He thinks she’ll give his life meaning because he doesn’t care about much else going on in his life. A lot of boys and girls think their lives will have meaning if they find a partner who wants nothing else in life but them, That’s not healthy. That’s falling in love with the idea of a person, not the actual person.”
Words that I’d underline from that quote: selfish and delusional. I think one of the reasons I find this movie so interesting, and why I really like this movie, is because of those two words. When I first watched it in 2012, this movie really wasn’t all that special to me; it was a good movie, albeit with an ending different from most romantic comedies back then. Now I understand a little bit more.
Tom was selfish; he fell for, and loved Summer even when it was clear from the start that Summer, the person, is not the same as Summer, the idea. She is not the same as the concept that he planted and fantasized about in his head. For him, she’s ‘the one that got away’, the one person whom he felt connected to, the one that he was destined to be with, the one with whom he’ll get the happy ending he think he deserves, yet externalities exists, and you’re forced to be apart.
But Summer made it clear from the first place that she never thought Tom as the same. She was never sure about him. Tom disregarded it, he pressed on thinking that fate put them together. But things never really are that simple, right? Fate wouldn’t put you and the one for you in the same lift and introduce you both just because you both liked “The Smith”, right?
Yet, I think that the reason why this movie hits me as much as it does isn’t only regarding its themes and story, it’s because it made me ask myself: “Am I a Tom?”
The Idea of a Person
Before moving on, what actually differentiates “the person” and the “idea of a person”? It’s quite abstract, really, but I think that what differentiates it the most is you and your subjectivity. It’s how you interpret them as a person; do you see them as what they are? Or do you purposely look away and shove away all the facts that made you realize that they are not who you imagine them to be? Maybe for me, what separate the person and the idea is you and how you deal with facts and reality when it concerns them, whether you could afford to accept or to reject the actuality of what is happening.
Am I like Tom? I tend to impose expectations to people even if I know that it is unfair for me to do so, to create a mental image of them in my head as a person who would reach such heights, even when I know it is almost impossible to fulfill that expectation. I tend to glorify people, especially the ones I deem special even when they probably don’t feel half the same about me.
It’s so selfish. It really is. I overcompensate; I always try to comfort even when I know I shouldn’t, sometimes I feel like I’m spreading toxic positivity when they probably needed time for themselves. I hate when I felt that I’m useless as a friend, when I couldn’t support them when the sad and bitter truth is that in most cases I can’t. This world is capitalistic, most of the time it’s cruel. And I’m guilty in trying to encourage them to hit the standards that I put for them, pushing them to be the person that I think they could be later on.
I find it hard to deal with rejection, especially to them whom I cared for so much. I overthink the negative responses, and then I overcompensate even more.
They’re probably tired of me. Tired of all the things I put them through.
The Person
But by realizing that I impose those standards, am I really like Tom, though?
I try to always accept reality; I try to realize that people are not as perfect as I thought they are despite my extremely high expectations of them. I understand that I’m never going to be that special, that everything is going to head down and I’m going to end up disappointed by the end of the day.
I understand that they’re not the same as what I think they could be. Yet I persist, because there’s that bit of possibility that they could reach what I think they could be later on. If there’s that chance, maybe my expectations don’t matter, maybe all I could do is just support and help them to reach whatever they wanted to reach.
Maybe I don’t matter that much to them, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe I’ll be disappointed in the end, but it’s okay. Right?
But then again, it’s much more stupid to know the outcome of something and still doing the thing anyway. It’s stupid; it really is; yet it’s just something that I couldn’t avoid no matter how much I try.
I impose standards, yet I know that I do. Maybe I am a Tom, or maybe I’m not. But in the end of the day, does it really matter?
