11:03 AM Thursday, August 19, 2004
HOPEFUL ROMANTIC
In reaction to my friend Trina's post, I would just like to expound on the idea of being romantic.
First, I'm one of the few who doesn't have a problem about romantics being realists too. There just isn't any conflict between the two for me, since I feel that both terms exact a truthful awareness of things.
Second, I've never called myself a hopeless romantic. I'm a hopeful romantic. Despite being disappointed, I seem to have this inherent capacity to forever believe that good things will happen in their own sweet time, provided of course, that the person has prepared for them, and has made the decisions to bring them about.
I am not ashamed to admit that when in love, I even record text messages sent me. I will not deny that there are boxes and boxes of old love letters and poems and songs under my bed, to serve as souvenirs of liaisons with different men. I will have to confirm that I experienced jelly legs in first kisses. I would be too much of a hypocrite if I don't admit that the lack of text message or loving touch from a loved one can really ruin my day, or that I haven't been spiteful and irrational because of jealousy.
I cannot even say that my world hasn't crumbled because of a relationship that went awry. I cannot even say that I have not deceived and have been deceived by men. I cannot say that I never broke hearts. I cannot say that my heart was never broken.
Because loving really requires so much from me, even if sometimes, I was really just engaged by the idea of being in love, or overwhelmed by the attention I was being given.
And yes, there have been many times that I've given up, felt numb, been forced on my knees. There were many times when I couldn't see the point of it all anymore... and not just with boy-girl relationships.
I loved, therefore, I got hurt. I continue to love, and still continue to get hurt. But the realist me knows that pain is part of the beauty that is love. And the romantic me knows that things don't end with pain... and that there are other things to look forward to (or look back to).
Late night talks, walking hand-in-hand, introductions to his friends and family, support when you're down, plans of marriage, passionate lovemaking, someone to fuss over, someone to worry about you, new perspective in things, initiation to new things and adventures, reality checks...
I loved, therefore, I was happy. I felt passionate. I felt alive. I learned a lot of things that are facilitating my becoming. The realist me knows that ecstasy and growth results from the beauty that is love. And the romantic me knows that greater things are yet to come... there may be more hurdles, but there will also be wider bridges and more arms to help me across.
This way, I never lose. I felt lost lots of times, but i've never lost. I will not lose.
Playing the crying game need not mean forever. But loving, I have found, brings with it its own brand of eternity.
*~*
I have decided that when i'm pms-y or rattled or harassed or feeling sensitive and vulnerable and needy... i'd just refer to myself as infanticipating. It's a euphemism, I know, but i think it'd be a cuter, more unique way of letting friends and family know that I am on the warpath, and that they should immediately cater to my irrational, childish needs or go away.
In reaction to my friend Trina's post, I would just like to expound on the idea of being romantic.
First, I'm one of the few who doesn't have a problem about romantics being realists too. There just isn't any conflict between the two for me, since I feel that both terms exact a truthful awareness of things.
Second, I've never called myself a hopeless romantic. I'm a hopeful romantic. Despite being disappointed, I seem to have this inherent capacity to forever believe that good things will happen in their own sweet time, provided of course, that the person has prepared for them, and has made the decisions to bring them about.
HOPE - verbThird, it's the romantics that color the world, for they are the ones who dream and search, the ones who invent and create, the ones who recreate and record...
1) to desire with expectation of obtainment
2) to expect with confidence
I am not ashamed to admit that when in love, I even record text messages sent me. I will not deny that there are boxes and boxes of old love letters and poems and songs under my bed, to serve as souvenirs of liaisons with different men. I will have to confirm that I experienced jelly legs in first kisses. I would be too much of a hypocrite if I don't admit that the lack of text message or loving touch from a loved one can really ruin my day, or that I haven't been spiteful and irrational because of jealousy.
I cannot even say that my world hasn't crumbled because of a relationship that went awry. I cannot even say that I have not deceived and have been deceived by men. I cannot say that I never broke hearts. I cannot say that my heart was never broken.
Because loving really requires so much from me, even if sometimes, I was really just engaged by the idea of being in love, or overwhelmed by the attention I was being given.
And yes, there have been many times that I've given up, felt numb, been forced on my knees. There were many times when I couldn't see the point of it all anymore... and not just with boy-girl relationships.
I loved, therefore, I got hurt. I continue to love, and still continue to get hurt. But the realist me knows that pain is part of the beauty that is love. And the romantic me knows that things don't end with pain... and that there are other things to look forward to (or look back to).
Late night talks, walking hand-in-hand, introductions to his friends and family, support when you're down, plans of marriage, passionate lovemaking, someone to fuss over, someone to worry about you, new perspective in things, initiation to new things and adventures, reality checks...
I loved, therefore, I was happy. I felt passionate. I felt alive. I learned a lot of things that are facilitating my becoming. The realist me knows that ecstasy and growth results from the beauty that is love. And the romantic me knows that greater things are yet to come... there may be more hurdles, but there will also be wider bridges and more arms to help me across.
This way, I never lose. I felt lost lots of times, but i've never lost. I will not lose.
Playing the crying game need not mean forever. But loving, I have found, brings with it its own brand of eternity.
*~*
I have decided that when i'm pms-y or rattled or harassed or feeling sensitive and vulnerable and needy... i'd just refer to myself as infanticipating. It's a euphemism, I know, but i think it'd be a cuter, more unique way of letting friends and family know that I am on the warpath, and that they should immediately cater to my irrational, childish needs or go away.
