How about that?
I think I am afflicted.
I am an unrelenting, miserable romantic.
And for the life of me, I do not know how I got here.
In my head, I am a cynical, independent feminist. Who doesn’t need any man to complete her.
In reality, I love a mushy romance novel, a cheesy chick flick, and I dream of falling hopelessly in love…exactly like how it happens in the movies.
I want the cheesy soundtrack and the prince charming. The steamy first kiss and most importantly, the happy ending.
But life is rarely ever like that.
And if your life IS like that..well. Shooooo! Yes! I am shoo-ing you off my blog. You have no place here, o’ person with perfect life. I am here to vent and say that romance is dead, and love does not truly exist. SOOOO before you contradict me, and then I subsequently bite your head off with venomous jealousy…ermmm….kindly press the esc key and be gone 🙂 Hurry along. Yes, good. Now then.
Where was I?
Yes, Love is poo.
Really, it is,
Its this horrible thing, that makes you feel good for a while, gets you hooked, makes you severely confused, and then up and leaves.
Leaving you horribly bereft and worse off than before!
Okay, okay I know, most of you will be saying by now that I’m contradicting myself.
Yes, I said love doesn’t exist. And now, I’m moaning about it.
What I really meant was that REAL love. Romantic love. Movie love. Love love. Yes, that one! Its not real.
Tell me one person, who fell magically in love (ahem, ‘in lust’ more like) at first sight, and their marriage lasted 70 years?
You can’t find one.
I on the other hand, met this lovely 92 year old lady. Whose marriage HAS lasted 70 years. And her story had nothing to do with romantic movie love. It was war – time and she did ‘what was expected of a young lady.’ Nonetheless…she is as happy as a peach. Although probably just as wrinkled as a peach too. She was lovely. And she held my hand and told me of a long, and fulfilled life. With many children, and many laughs.
Life isn’t really in technicolour.
Its a splodge of colour here. A splash of laughs there. A collection of moments and half-whispered promises. Hold on to those moments. Enjoy them. Revel in them. Wash your face with them. THIS is your life. Not that one in the little box you watch.