Sorry, love, One Day your prince will probably not come

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I hate to be the one to disappoint, especially in Valentine’s week and in the fugue of romance that tends to befall us at the time of year. But we must disabuse ourselves of the cultural preoccupation that hot, dumb posh boys with crowds of buddies fall for smart, caustic, socially awkward girls.

The latest manifestation of this pervasive brain/brawn romantic fiction, One Day, started streaming on Netflix last weekend. A 14-part adaptation of David Nicholls’ rabid bestseller, first published in 2009, it follows a will-they-won’t-they-ever-get-their-rocks-off friendship over decades via an annual check-in — the perfect episodic structure for a TV adaptation in this binge-drama age.

Most critics have adored the show’s slow-burning romantic arc: boy with zero plans or ambitions has one-night encounter with star academic on their last day at Edinburgh university; boy stumbles through life buffered by his good looks and private wealth, while girl stumbles through bad relationships and career disappointment buffered by the idealistic notion that she will one day do the world some good. Boy hits rock bottom. Girl starts to achieve goals. Boy is saved by girl who has forever cherished a largely unrequited, almost creepy, crush.

One Day is all part of the much fancied cultural weakness for the notion that true love must follow a painful path. Lysander first spat out the argument in A Midsummer Night’s Dream — largely to justify his decision to ditch his current girlfriend and go chase someone else instead. It’s become a collective passion that true love can cut through class, attitude and looks. Everyone, from Jane Austen to Sally Rooney, has made a fortune on the premise that, if you are pure and patient, you will transcend socio-economic barriers (and physical disadvantage) and your prince will come to you.

Spoiler alert. Even when these people…