(2.1 minute read)
“This isn’t how I imagined dating would be,” sighed my roommate.
“How did you imagine it?”
“I don’t know. More sweet, and romantic.”
She was imagining candlelight, and cuddles. Chivalrous gestures. Kisses in the rain and long walks in the moonlight. Love letters and sonnets. Sweet nothings whispered in her ear. Late nights talking about the meaning of life. Watching the sunrise and enjoying a picnic breakfast. Cute selfies and random adventures.
Well, my question is. . . why the hell not?
Read Shakespeare. Watch Cary Grant and Fred Astaire. Take a quick glance at Tumblr. Romance has always been here. The only difference is that now, for some reason, we think it’s unattainable in real life; it’s only the stuff day-dreams are made of. My generation is so convinced of this, that we’re willing to settle for things like “friends with benefits” and “Netflix and chill” instead of being swept off our feet–or sweeping someone else off theirs.
I think a very major reason for this is that we are terrified of making ourselves vulnerable; it takes way more courage to take off our masks than to take off our clothes. I know that I am. But as I look back over the past few months with my boyfriend, and I read the poem he wrote me for about the 100th time (I assumed you guys wouldn’t be interested in that, but if you are let me know and I’ll think about posting it), I believe that it’s very worth it. Maybe if you make yourself vulnerable to someone, you’ll experience the most deep pain that exists. But that’s also the only way you’ll ever discover profound love.