Written by Erin Tatum.
If it’s true that people watch television and film to escape reality, show runners and writers have to know how to fulfill viewers’ fantasies. Why do you think they cast hot 25-year-olds as high schoolers? No one wants to remember their acne-induced social awkwardness or that time they got dumped the day before prom. The vast majority of viewers want to watch characters who are sexy, smart, and successful. In short, most of us want to be the most desirable person in the room or to be charismatic enough to possess the most desirable person in the room. Romance, lust, and dramatic intrigue are the antidote to our anxiety that we are just boringly adequate enough to make it through everyday life. The best part is that we can deny any accusations of shallowness or narcissism because at the end of the day, we don’t have to take responsibility for the actions of fictional characters. It’s a win-win!
Writers have long capitalized on this escapist craving–and perhaps taken advantage of it to supplement their own lack of originality on occasion–to create hundreds of romances. However, once you make the fateful decision to break the sexual tension, popular belief dictates that happy couples stagnate and just don’t make for great entertainment after a while. You need to up the ante to keep things exciting. Luckily, you have one of the oldest tropes in the book at your disposal: the love triangle! Having two people crushing on a character totally highlights the informed awesomeness of the middle spoke and if you’re thrifty, you might even be able to use it to bypass pesky things like character development and individual growth for any of and up to all three of the spokes.
Coincidentally enough, love triangles tend to reinforce misogyny and uphold masculinity no matter their configuration (shocker). Listed below are some of the more recent love triangle configurations I’ve seen (with the shared love object in the middle) and the examples of them. Believe me, it’s far too many. Their implications predictably reinforce gendered hierarchies.
Woman/man/woman (everything ever, but most prominent in media marketed to teens)–two women compete for the attention of a man who often has no discernible personality traits. As we all know, masculine validation must be the keystone of a woman’s existence. If there’s anything we want to drill into young girls’ heads early, it’s that they need a man to assert their worth and social presence. Expect catfights and slut shaming. The phrase “You’re not like other girls” will be uttered at some point because the most romantic way to a girl’s heart is to tell her that her entire gender is largely off-putting and irritating. It’s okay though, since the guy is kind and generous enough to find the chosen girl mildly tolerable! Swoon.
Man/woman/man (Twilight, The Mortal Instruments, Twisted, The Vampire Diaries, True Blood, The Hunger Games, the list goes on)–ah, the “faux feminist” love triangle. Putting a lady in the center means that she calls the shots, right? Let those men fight it out for once. In theory, this configuration feels progressive. Women don’t have to tear each other down to win a man’s approval. Female agency can finally come into play. In reality, it’s about as liberating for female characters as choosing between folding laundry or making a sandwich. Masculine ideologies of possessiveness still dominate the scenario. The guys are hellbent on proving their manhood to each other, but usually don’t seem to care what the girl thinks. She’s preemptively demonized for rejecting whoever she doesn’t pick, while viewers venerate the shunned boy as a tragic nice guy undeserving of her conniving ways. Break out your Fedora–the accusations of friendzoning fly all over the place. Funny how a guy’s decision is respected and unquestioned but a girl becomes cold and callous in the same situation. The girl is set up for failure because the only right choice she can make is not to have one. That’s how we got Twilight.
Interestingly, the cast and crew of The Hunger Games have consistently resisted the media’s attempts to pigeonhole the franchise as romantically driven, arguing instead that the core theme of the films revolves around Katniss’ love for her family and her ability to inspire people. Media, take notes.
Woman/woman/man (Bomb Girls, Lost Girl, Glee, South of Nowhere, Skins ambiguously)–rather than handle queer desire tactfully, writers will often kill two birds with one stone and make both the contested woman and the side spoke female suitor look like terrible people. Double-bladed misogyny that transcends sexuality, yay! If the contested lady is queer, expect a lot of lecturing from both sides about how she needs to “grow out of her phase” of deluding herself into thinking she likes the other gender. This is particularly characteristic of the male suitor since he can’t fathom how bisexuality can exist outside of a performance for the male gaze. The queer lady suitor is portrayed as petulantly possessive or aggressive, whether or not she’s closeted. Alternatively, if it’s a case of incompatible orientation or denialism, you’ll likely see some variation of the butch savior, hopelessly yoked to an unrequited crush and yet still willing to sacrifice everything for a girl who could never love her back. Viewers perceive the woman caught in the middle as uncaring or just plain stupid in her shame or obliviousness. The butch savior is equally dehumanized as a deviant martyr.
To Lost Girl’s credit, Dyson views Lauren as a legitimate romantic rival for Bo, but masculine supremacy is implied in other subtle ways. Given that Bo is a succubus, she needs a constant supply of sex to keep herself strong, which Dyson (a werewolf) is better able to provide then Lauren (a human). Bo and Lauren’s relationship winds up dissolving simply because Lauren cannot keep up with Bo’s sexual appetites and Bo is literally killing herself trying to remain monogamous. Sure, the writers have a supernatural rationale behind the breakup, but it’s still uncomfortably analogous to both the promiscuous bisexual trope and the idea that queer women can’t have truly satisfying sex unless a penis is involved.
Man/man/woman (most depictions of relationships between a straight woman and a gay man)–The only reason I am excluding bisexual man is because I have yet to see a genuine love triangle with a queer man at the center. The stereotypical desperate hag develops a pathetic crush on her gay friend and spends an episode or two being overly clingy and an effort to convince herself that they might be in a relationship one day. Hell, this is essentially the entire premise of Will and Grace. The woman might be territorial and try to stop guys from hitting on her friend. If he has a boyfriend, the couple will either act annoyed or be completely clueless. We are meant to see the woman’s feelings as sad and embarrassing and take the pointless crush that she has gone too long without a real love interest. It’s not even a love triangle really, it’s just another excuse to make fun of women and trivialize and shame them for their emotions.
Why are love triangles used so frequently? They’re empty plot devices that do little to nothing for character development and in fact can drive the audience to hate the characters involved by bringing out all of their most unflattering and indecisive qualities. Triangles may create titillating drama, but it can’t be that difficult to let characters stand on their own two feet individually or show already existing couples facing normal hurdles or, I don’t know, actually being content.
When women get the short end of the stick in love triangles, it perpetuates the belief that women can only be supplementary players in society and can never really be their own person. Women do not exist as a confirmation of masculine control. Women should not be expected to buoy everyone else’s confidence in their gender roles. Love geometry tries to work out the fear of female autonomy. Rather than subjugating women’s emotion to shore up manhood, triangles should explore everyone’s capacity for caring beyond gendered competition. Misogyny should not be the glue that holds supposedly epic romance together at its inception. When all is said and done, perhaps the ladies should simply choose themselves.
