An open letter to the person who says romance is dead,
Carry on, dear soul.
Romance may be dead for you.
I must be one of the fortunate. I collide into romance daily; in rare, heartfelt cinematic moments; my friends’ lives; stories shared with me; the daily good morning and good evening text from my friend. The sweet, little gestures I see in the city, quieter than normal, as my partner keeps semi proper social distancing (we don’t touch and we keep our faces covered) while we walk to get coffee.
I see romance in television series and movies— will you insist to me that romance is the stuff of scripts, but those same writers are unable to demonstrate love in their own lives? Surely you’ll grant that one or two of the more sophisticated among the writing class have the mysterious ability to both say a thing and act upon it.
Am I so lucky, or is my memory failing me, in only finding partners capable of romance and love? That speak my love languages. That ensure I feel loved and safe.
I don’t chase romance. I don’t manipulate others into pursuing me. But I enjoy it. We play, back and forth, with each other- but not with our hearts. We share affection. Stories. Vulnerabilities. We fall in love. I’ve even taken long romantic walks on the beach. Though the last time, I broke my foot and my partner had to carry me a mile in the sand. I suppose that’s romantic.
Romance needn’t be dumped on a person all at once. Perhaps I am not that “good” at romance, I don’t crave it the way others appear to need it. But I, at least, savor the slow romance.
Sweeter than any sugary confection was the first time he whispered, “I love you.” After, what, six months? A year? I don’t remember. I thought I dreamt it, but I don’t dream of romance.
Of course, I do take romance into my own hands. I’ll pursue it if it doesn’t drop into my lap (and quite frequently, it does not!) I will do what it takes to make my own romance, and I am not subtle or coy about it. I won’t wave a delicate flag informing you, the hunter, that I am desirous of pursuit. I’ll chase you down myself. Knights in shining armor? Go find your own distressed damsel.
Romance is dead? Perhaps we’re not looking for it very hard.
A Very Loved And Loving Friend