Most of us like happy endings, whether in real life, books, or movies. Hence, the appeal of romance novels and Hallmark movies, at least to women. But I’m willing to bet that even most men like it better when the good guy wins in the end. Hence, the appeal of Die Hard and Terminator, even if you have to go through a lot of blood and guts to get there.

So, I just have to wonder, what was Margaret Mitchell thinking when she ended Gone with the Wind on a downer? Did she plan to write a sequel in which everything turned out rosy? Apparently, the answer is NO. She left poor Scarlett O’Hara hanging in the wind, so to speak.

Now, I preface this by saying that Gone with the Wind is one of my all-time favorite books, as well as movies. I have seen the movie enough times to know all the lines by heart and read all 1037 pages of the book more than once, hoping that THIS TIME, the ending will turn out happy.

But, bless your heart—spoiler alert—if you’re expecting a fairy tale ending where love triumphs and everyone rides off into the sunset, instead of “Happily ever after,” you’re left with “How many more times can life kick Scarlett O’Hara in the teeth?” I mean, seriously, the female protagonist is basically the poster child for “If at first you don’t succeed, drink sweet tea and try again.” She’s survived unrequited love, heartbreak, war, hardship, poverty, and more drama than a Southern family reunion, determined never to say die. She’s a fighter, which is admirable, and it makes you want to root for her to finally find her “happily ever after.”

Sure, some of her problems are her own doing, such as hanging on to the hope that Ashley Wilkes will suddenly wake up and find himself madly in love with her, and marrying men she doesn’t love for all the wrong reasons. (But honestly, what she sees in Ashley is beyond me unless she views him as the one thing she can’t have.)

Then, when she realizes that she never really loved Ashley and she really loved Rhett Butler all along, you think everything will FINALLY work out. Except that Rhett’s had enough. Come on! The man hung around for years, waiting to hear her say “I love you.” Can’t he stay around a little longer now that they’re both finally on the same page? Does he honestly not give a D _ _ _?

The ending is the ultimate anti-romantic comedy. The drama, the sorrow, and the relentless determination of its characters swirl into a finale that’s as bitter as unsweet tea. Yet, the story refuses to conform to the perfect Hollywood ending, reminding us that in real life, few situations wrap up so neatly.

Okay, I get it. But I don’t want real life. I want my happy ending. Margaret Mitchell would never make it as a Hallmark writer. Bless her heart.