Movie Reflections: Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy

On the surface, Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy is just another rom-com I’ve always loved. But this movie hits differently today, the day after Valentine’s—also known as Singles Awareness Day. Outside, the world is covered in cold, slushy snow, but inside, I’m warm, curled up with my thoughts, reflecting on love, loss, and the ever-elusive “happily ever after.”

I’ve always been a fan of romantic comedies. Maybe it’s because, deep down, my delulu self still clings to the hope of having my own love story someday. The truth, though? I don’t know if I’ve ever been “in love.” I’ve felt love, but that dizzying, all-consuming, head-over-heels kind of love? I don’t think I’ve ever been there. And part of me hopes that my own Mr. Darcy is still out there somewhere, waiting to step into my life. Preferably sooner rather than later since, let’s be honest, I’m not getting any younger.

One thing that amazes me about this story is Bridget’s continued friendship with Daniel Cleaver. To think she trusted him enough to babysit her children! Some things never change—Daniel is still his same inappropriate, charming self. But their dynamic is a reminder that relationships don’t always fit into neat little boxes. Love, in all its forms, is complicated.

Then there’s Roxster—young, full of life, and, let’s not lie, hot. His storyline is predictable, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. It made me nostalgic for the kind of carefree excitement I never really got to experience myself. I’m not old, but I’ve never had much experience dating younger men, even when I was younger. Maybe I missed out on something.

But what truly struck me in this movie wasn’t just the romance but the grief—losing Mr. Darcy, losing the supposed love of your life. How do you even begin to recover from that? How do you move forward? Renee Zellweger captures that complexity beautifully, making me wonder… how does one even find a Mr. Darcy in the first place? Because, honestly, I have no clue.

Newton’s Third Law says that for every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. Maybe that’s why, just as Bridget lost her great love, she also found something new—Mister Scott Wallaker. Not only did she have one great love, she somehow got another. And if I’m being honest? I feel jealous. There, I admit it.

Will I ever have my happy ending? My love life now feels like a series of short films, movie trailers, and commercials—plenty of teasers but no full-length feature. Not yet, anyway. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from Bridget Jones, love stories don’t follow a set script. Maybe mine is still being written.