Most of my friends know that I will probably become incredibly frustrated if we talk about love, in the romantic sense. All year I danced around this awkward line of wanting to eventually be loved but being disgusted by the portrayal of romantic love in the media. I watched friends' relationships tear families apart, create unhappiness and un-needed stress. I strongly disliked the concept of falling in love and movies like The Notebook and Twilight just made me upset. I found boys my age disgusting and crude most of the time. Marriage and dating fell low in my priorities... I even considered never getting married. (Although I knew I wanted children far too much to not get married.)
And so the girl who had been dreaming of her true love from an early age left romance behind.
I found the image above on a package of kleenexes in a boutique. My friends and I all laughed about how similar my mindset was to the kleenexes. I've been falling in love with characters in literature for years: Mr. Rochester, Mr. Knightley, Heathcliff, Hamlet, Raskolnikov, Sydney Carton, and Arthur Clennam just to name a few.
But they all have their true loves. Except for Hamlet and Sydney Carton who both die tragically.
Anyway, I could talk about fictional characters for hours...
I think one of the things that pulled me through my bitter, love bashing stage was literature. I was okay with those love stories... I still melted when Sonya and Raskolnikov finally came together. I still sighed when Mr. Knightley finally admitted his love for Emma and proposed. And I never stopped rereading my favorites conversations between Mr. Rochester and Jane Eyre.
I disliked real world relationships but loved these imaginary fictional men and their romantic lives with the heroines of the stories. Why was this? Their lives were just as unreasonable and foolish as the situations I looked down on. They believed in their true love and fought against unusual circumstances to keep their love strong. Why could I accept these love stories of great literature and not my own or others'?
The question is still a mystery to me. Maybe it's because my love language is Words of Affirmation and I'm such a word person. The language and intelligent ways of expressing love that come from classic literature (specifically 19th century lit) is appealing and interesting and feels more heartfelt. Maybe because they are actually fictional stories and can't harm anyone but the characters in the book. Maybe because no matter how much I rejected romance I still secretly wanted that "only exception."
That brings me to the next part in this journey...
At some point after graduation, I started being able to listen to romantic songs. One in particular was "The Only Exception" by Paramore. Before, it had been one of the songs I never listened to because it seemed every other person thought it was so cute and romantic. The first time I really listened to it, I was surprised about how much I connected with the lyrics.
"Maybe I know, somewhere
Deep in my soul
That love never lasts
And we've got to find other ways
To make it alone
Keep a straight face
And I've always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable, distance
And up until now
I had sworn to myself that I'm
Content with loneliness
Because none of it was ever worth the risk
Oh, you are the only exception"
I realized that I still hoped for the one exception to all my rules and all the walls I had put up. That even though I had come to the conclusion that falling in love wasn't worth the risk, I was still waiting for it to happen.
"Oh, and I'm on my way to believing"
The last line was my only hope for a while.
This summer I've been working at a Christian camp. One of the reasons why I love camp is because I get the opportunity to form friendships with boys my own age, with the same heart for God. I met some pretty amazing God-fearing men this summer. They started giving me hope for the male gender... surprise! There are decent men out there!
There was also plenty of chances for very stimulating girl talk... I realized how much I've missed girl talk.
Slowly, I've become less and less cynical as the summer has progressed. Still not in want of a relationship, but willing to accept whatever God has planned for my life. Love isn't so bad after all...
Now I can listen to Taylor Swift (granted that could be because I've been hanging out with elementary aged girls all summer)... watch chick flicks occasionally... and yes, I even remade my list of qualities in my ideal man.
There is one song that I particularly like now: Lucky by Jason Mraz and Colbie Callait
"Do you hear me? I'm talking to you
Across the water across the deep blue ocean
Under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying
Boy I hear you in my dreams
I feel your whisper across the sea
I keep you with me in my heart
You make it easier when like gets hard
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be home again
Ooh ooh ooh"
One day I'll be there. Maybe not for a little while.. but I look forward to it.
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