There, I said it. And “…just listen to the rhythm of my heart.” Okay, it’s out of my system. (And if you watch the creep-tastic video it will be out of your system too.)
Maybe I’ve read too many girly romance novels or seen too many cheesy rom-coms. Maybe it’s that whole princess/hero mentality that Disney ingrained in my soul from birth. Maybe I can blame Mattel for making Ken to be Barbie’s main man. (Although, since they’ve recently split, maybe they are more realistic than I originally thought.) It’s probably a combination of all of that.
Where ever it comes from, I have a deep-rooted belief in love. And more importantly (and more naively), in love overcoming all obstacles. I think I still believe in the fairy tale.
Quit laughing. Some where in there, you do too. At least, I’m brave (or stupid) enough to admit it. I’m not saying that I believe that I will kiss a frog and he will turn into a prince or that if I marry a beast he’ll transform into a total hottie. But I do believe in love — the butterfly inducing, stars in your eyes, fireworks with Michael Bolton blaring in the background kind of love. (Michael Bolton doesn’t play in the soundtrack of your life? Get real. All I have to say is “Said I loved you but I lied.”)
I think as I have gotten older, I have generally become less idealistic about life and work and relationships in general. You grow up and realize that you aren’t going to score some amazing dream job straight out of college with no experience and that you can’t afford to go on nice vacations and that all the time you spent trying to befriend “popular” people in high school and college was a colossal waste of time. You get real. And thank goodness! But the one thing I still haven’t become all that real about is love.
Are you surprised? Me too. I’ve been a bridesmaid 5 times and been invited to 30+ weddings, but I can’t remember the last time I went on a date. I have watched my gorgeous friends get their hearts broken by guys who we all thought had such great lifelong potential. I have wallowed in a break up for an amount of time so ridiculous and humiliating that I refuse to share it with you. I have watched hours upon hours of TV by myself on weekends. I have read all kinds of relationship self-help books. You would think that after all of that I would be jaded, cynical, depressed, or some combination of the three. But I’m really not. I’m hopeful.
I’m not sure where it comes from honestly. And I won’t pretend that I always have a sunny outlook about love. But overall, I am hopeful. There is love out there with my name on it. In my head, it will be perfect and all-encompassing and romantic and fantastic. It will make all of my friends just a little jealous. It will fill my soul completely. On paper, I know that my prince-charming isn’t going to come rescue me from my life (and I don’t need him to necessarily) and that he probably won’t be rich and famous and perfectly classically handsome. But I think for me to hold onto my hope, I have to hold onto a little bit of the fantasy. The magic. The fate. The fairy dust. Thinking there’s something truly magical out there makes it bearable most of the time.
And when I finally find the love, the really great love, it won’t be perfect. But it will be real and that will be so much better. (I mean, seriously, look what happened to Ken & Barbie. Obviously, perfect is overrated.) So yes, I believe in a thing called love. It’s out there. Now, I’ve just got to find it…
Do you feel like you have gotten cynical/skeptical/bitter about finding love as you have gotten older? Do you still cling to the child-like fantasy of being swept off your feet by prince charming?