Shipping, OTP, the feels, what is air? I can’t even! Do you recognise and/or use any of the above phrases? If you answered yes to 3 out of 5 of these then congratulations, you too are a product of the social media generation; your medal and certificate of shame are in the post. I’m almost ashamed to divulge the following information, it’s not wrong exactly, just frowned upon; like taking a shit at the house of someone you’re trying to seduce. Okay, here goes nothing: I am a die hard shipper, it has been 3 days since I last shipped (Caroline and Klaus: The Vampire Diaries for anyone whose interested)
For those of you who have love lives of your own and have no need to live vicariously through fictional characters, ‘shipping’ is the belief that two fictional characters should be in a relationship, romantic or otherwise. The first ‘ship’ I remember supporting was ‘Skate’, Sawyer and Kate from Lost, and I’ve never looked back since. As a fifteen year old I was terribly insecure, and rarely spoke to anyone other than my pet fish Freckles, so as you can imagine my success rate with the opposite sex was slim to none. Therefore watching their relationship beautifully unfold onscreen gave me hope, hope that one day that might happen for me, that I might meet someone and he’d feel about me the way Sawyer felt about Kate.
That’s fine for a fifteen year old though, teenagers feel insecure, unsure of themselves and of relationships, but back then I sort of hoped that eight years later I’d have experienced the love Sawyer felt for Kate at least once by now. Yet after a string of failed relationships and flings I still find myself holding out for that. Even as a bitter, cynical, shrew who knows better than to assume that’s how things happen in the real world I still watch these television shows and hope that the story of these couples might one day be my story.
Perhaps, one day I will meet the Damon to my Elena, the Seth to my Summer or the Pacey to my Joey. It might be an unrealistic notion: my life is not a television show, I don’t have Sandy Cohen to offer me a bagel and some sage advice every time I lose my way, but it’s definitely a welcome distraction from the reality that is my tragic love life. “Welcome to the OC, bitch!”