Romance resuscitation
“You have opened my heart wider than anyone ever has. It takes a very special person to open my heart. Your name has been engraved on my heart. It would be an honor to call you my girlfriend.” He whispered softly as a single tear glided gently down his face as he lay next to her with his right arm enveloping her body and his left hand caressing her face and running his fingers through her hair.
And some out there are going to roll their sarcastic little eyes and shake their stupid little heads because of romance. But to romance?? I say: “It’s. About. Time”
You can read about it. You can want it. You can write about it. You can watch it on TV and in movies and think “awww if only that would happen in real life.”
For years I’ve said “I want to be in love in a movie.” Because that’s where the good writing and good direction is. Then, there is real life and we realize that we set ourselves up for disappointment with too much hope. We set ourselves up for let down when we hear something and turn it into something else. And we certainly lose the spontaneity if we’re telling someone that what they said would’ve been better if they said it this-way or that-way. I mean, geez. I can’t be the writer and director and star in my life–can I? Can I just hope, but hope that my *level* of hope is adequately placed on a level of realism? And isn’t hope supposed to be this unbound motivation that transcends the physical aspects of life? Hello? No? Yes? Can I just continue to watch TV and movies and hope the law of attraction and the power of my thoughts reaches to someone I’ve created in my mind and haven’t yet met and hope that they capture all of the bullet-pointed material I’ve placed on a list of wishful thinking and perfection? I mean…really??? Aren’t I just setting myself up more? Or is the fact that I’m being specific and unwilling to settle going to continue to quake within me adjusting my path and pushing away the mistakes and ogres and alcoholics and convicts and liars and thieves? Man, that would be nice. And nice–what the hell is that? Why would I say that? Ever notice that people get offended if you tell them they are nice? As children we are told to play nice, be nice, act nice, say it nicely. And as adults we now are turned off or feel we’ve lost some sort of untitled-chance by being recognized as “nice.” Well to that I say, calm down. I like nice. Nice can be misconstrued and perceived as weak or too sensitive. Nice is supposed to be about manners, etiquette, and confidence in my opinion. It shouldn’t be fake, or forced and I don’t think it’s a very good blanket to attempt to hide behind. It’s just a layer. And it can be genuine. it’s okay, I promise. SO–yes, I’d like a nice, romantic guy to say something that others would see or hear in a movie. But not because I want others to wish they were me, or because I want their approval, but because I believe that kind of stuff, those kinds of words are born of genuine caring parts of a human and it’s something everyone should experience. They are lost lessons. They are forgotten times. Bring on the romance. Bring on the niceties and caring behaviors. You can call it a cliche if you want, but the bottom line is you want to be a cliche just as much as the next person.
My name is Aiyani and I’m a cliche, and I’m okay with that.
Posted on June 20, 2013, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.
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