I’m a hopeless romantic, and I think that’s my biggest problem1, the fact that I’m hopeless about romance. I think that while I was growing up, the notion of being hopelessly romantic was the best because it meant that one would be romantic no matter what; that you would choose love, no matter what.
Now that I’m older, and
not less prone to my impulses, I’ve come to the realization that it’s pretty stupid silly to be hopeless about the subject of love and romance. Being a hopeless romantic means that you are the type who would do anything for the person who is lucky enough to earn a place in your heart. “Ain’t no mountain high enough, Ain’t no valley low enough, Ain’t no river wide enough, To keep me from you”; and other such unrealistic proclamations, these are the sort of things you’d hear someone – who was a hopeless romantic – utter. It’s lovely, isn’t it? Doesn’t it awaken those butterflies in your stomach? Make your heart race, and your palms sweat? Me. Too.
Of course, as I’ve already stated – all that romantic stuff is unrealistic. You swoon while you make promises of such grand gestures and your ‘love’ is elated because, “Oh my god, you’d do all that for me? I feel so special”. Of course, unless you back it up with actions that demonstrate your dedication, you’re just a liar. Maybe that’s a little unfair – maybe you didn’t mean to lie about the things you’d do to make the other person happy; maybe you had every intention to do those things but life got in the way. Either way, it still proves my point – being a hopeless romantic is really one being just hopeless. Maybe there’s nothing romantic about it all. We were just taught to think so.
Now say, you’re on the other side of that coin and you are the one who needs to hear such proclamations of adoration to truly feel loved. Well, you’re fucked too aren’t you?. The odds of you meeting someone who a) will adore you enough to speak to you like Romeo spoke to Juliet, b) will actually mean every word they say, and c) will share your hopeless romanticism is smaller than… something with really small odds2.
All I’m trying to say is that once upon a time, I believed in Once Upon a Time. And now I realize that all those fairy tales ended in a wedding or a marriage to someone they barely knew, with no follow-up story for how their lives actually played out. All that we were told was that they lived “happily ever after”, but we were never given proof. So I think it’s time to put away my hopes of finding the kind of adoration that I am, seemingly, cursed to feel for my partner. It’s time I realize that the way I love is the way that I love, and that anyone else I may pair up with isn’t going to love me the same way, but that doesn’t mean they love me any less. I guess.
So far, I’ve always known what I know about love. But for the first time in my life, I’m really unsure. I’d love to hear your thoughts.