Yep, Romance is Dead

I bet there's a lot of people who know me well enough (even so through my articles) asking themselves, "gee, she's a really unhappy and bitter person, when is she going to just relax"? True, my frustrations get the best of me more often then they should, but I'm certain that self behavior is built upon outside influences in the same measure.

It's lovely to believe in the idea that happiness can be self created and we don't need a special someone in our lives to feel complete and whole, but realistically speaking, that's not the case at all. Can one honestly say that surviving an eternity until death without a true beloved at their side is easy as pie? I know for sure that I can't. I'm hopeful in real love that rings so loud, citizens of other countries can hear my overwhelming joy of happiness!

You know that time in your life between relationships when family and friends encourage and sometimes even shove you out into the world to meet others to get your mind off of your latest failed union? It just so happens, that is the exact time when you're very much alone that everyone has a somebody; everyone but you that is. It's the lovey dovey couple walking in opposite direction of you on your regular walking trail, the pregnant lady admiring her man hoisting their toddler onto his shoulders at the annual town fair, an overheard conversation from a man trying to decide upon which flowers would be best given to his Lady for their two year anniversary...enough already!

I'm all about everyone deserving their own form of a fairy tale ending, but it just doesn't seem to thrive in the days that it used to. Take for example a beautiful classic I set aside time to watch alone so many months back; Dr Zhivago (recommendation inserted here). Yes, I'd heard of it before, but once in catching one of my Cusack favorites, Must Love Dogs (I do sometimes stumble upon new and classic films within films), the title rang aloud again and I searched it out on my netflix and gave it a go. There's passion that film makers captured long ago that certainly holds no weight to todays' standards, none even remarkably close.

Take for example, male behavior in romancing their love interest. Little trinkets and gifts of appreciation, consistent 'I love you's' to the extent of obsession, a grandeur show of a man head over heels, and when does he halt at his actions? When they've committed and settled into a relationship, most importantly one of familiar routine. What is the point of pursuing and adoring a special person who's already willingly involved? They took the bait, why the need to continue all of that gushy romantic crap? Because it's what assisted building the love to begin with!

Women falter in this department just as easily as men; we take for granted that sexy wear is only needed once in a blue moon for 'special occasions', and lustful advances can be kept a minimum once we're wound down and nestled in a common station with our man. The drive and desire has died in most of us, and for what reason? Couldn't we make the attempt to hold the romantic trait in all of us on a daily basis to spur on the spark that ignites the fire? I'm ashamed that sex without deep feeling is favorable to the majority in todays' society while Creativity is a sad bystander left behind.

This is the fascination of why I write about romance and relationships as much as I do; I have yet to grasp the real thing myself. Two people build an empire together, so if even one half of the equation is lazy or lacking on their part, the pairing doesn't stand a chance. Divorce is on the rise, loneliness ranks above, and the confused party amongst myself is wondering what happened to the better outcome? Why is suffering the popular trend? Should we really even try anymore?

While the my mind is saying give it up, you may only be twenty three, but what you're looking for can only come later in life when those will want the same things as you do, my heart cries out to grip the chances that not all is impossible and to just have a little faith. Watching my parents muster through their own crumbling marriage broke away a part of me that to this day, still affects my own personal relationships. This happens only because I allow it to, even though I believe their parting was the best to have occurred. Fanatically glaring over complete strangers and close family and friends with their partners only adds to the depression of it all.

I talk a lot of angst and roll my eyes at those obviously happier with their love lives than I am, but I'm confident in saying that we all 'go a little mad sometimes' and discover on our own how to work through the pain. How else do we end up a sweeter version of what we pine for to begin with? Even cringing at the thought I won't result in my dream until well into my thirties (I know that it is young, but being 23, your thirties seem almost an ending to your youth), I'm taking into stride the opportunities that I'm handed. I no longer bounce from one bad mistake to the other like I used to, my will just isn't as strong as it used to be. I'm taking my time, patiently awaiting the stunning horizon ahead.

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Maybe most fold their playing hand and lazily succumb to what they're dealt. I can never be one of those particpants. The only way to blissfully achieving what you believe you deserve, is the ongoing conviction that it is coming to you one way or another, despite the circumstances that you reside in the present moment. I'm putting it out there that yes, while I construe romance to be good and gone, a few of the romantic species may still be roaming out there. If you are a half of a couple, never take for granted the love you have for each other and live each minute shared as it could be the last shared together. In wrapping up this segment, I leave with you a favorite quote from a film dear to me that says much of what I'm trying to get across (only in fewer words):

"Every asshole says he loves somebody, doesn't mean anything. What you feel only matters to you. It's what you do to the people you say you love; that's what matters most. That's the only thing that counts".

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The Mad Cow

Yep, Romance is Dead