The Day My Life Became a Romantic Comedy (Without the Comedy)

An Introduction to Me, Loraine Bowman (aka JL Bowman, Romance Author) and my not so funny real life...

Romantic comedies are supposed to be lighthearted tales of meet-cutes, zany hijinks, and grand gestures. They’re filled with laughter, quirky best friends, and a soundtrack so peppy it practically dares you to have a bad day. So imagine my surprise when I realized my life had veered into rom-com territory—just without the comedy, the romance, or a decent soundtrack.

It all started the day my husband said he wanted a divorce. Cue the record scratch, the dramatic gasp, and me standing there in mismatched socks holding a coffee cup that said, #1 Wifey. Not exactly my most glamorous moment. If this were a romantic comedy, I’d have tripped over something adorably, or maybe there’d have been a funny misunderstanding involving a parrot and an old love letter. Instead, it was just awkward silence and the distant hum of the washing machine whirring.

Let’s set the scene: I’m a romance writer. My days are spent crafting heart-fluttering moments, grand declarations of love, and perfect happy endings. Yet here I was, the star of my story, and the plot twist hit like a brick. I didn’t have a clever comeback or a quirky sidekick to help me process everything. The only sound was the faint buzz of my phone as Amazon suggested I order more romance novels. Thanks, algorithm.

If this were a movie, this would be the part where I’d get a montage: me trying on fabulous outfits, crying into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, and throwing his clothes out the window while “I Will Survive” played in the background. Reality? I Googled “How to save your marriage” while stress-eating a stale granola bar.

Rom-coms don’t prepare you for the less glamorous moments of heartbreak. There’s no script for how to keep living under the same roof with someone you’re not sure is staying. No guidance for awkwardly splitting the grocery list or figuring out who gets the “good couch” during this limbo phase.

But you know what? Romantic comedies also miss something important: the unintentional comedy of real life. Like the time I tried to have a heart-to-heart, and my dog chose that exact moment to bark at a squirrel like it was the end of days. Or when I angrily grabbed a blanket to storm off and ended up dragging half the living room with me because it was stuck under the coffee table.

Real life doesn’t come with perfect comedic timing, but it does come with absurdity—and that’s worth laughing at, even when things feel bleak.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this experience (besides how many tears one person can cry before they need Gatorade), it’s this: You don’t have to have all the answers right away. Maybe this isn’t the ending; maybe it’s just a plot twist.

So, while my life might not have the polish of a romantic comedy, it’s got something better: authenticity, messy emotions, and the tiniest glimmers of hope. Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll look back on this chapter and laugh—or at least write a killer scene about it in a future book. Until then, I’ll just keep turning the pages of this very unpredictable script.