I’m a closet romantic. I spew venom about my ex-es on my other blog and I scoff at mushy couples. I went out with a couple of women from work recently. Over a sandwich I contributed to the inevitable girly conversation with my brand of male-bashing and cynicism. Then one of them asked “What’s in the bag? Did you buy a movie?” I could only look on sheepishly as she pulled out a romance movie and looked at me, first non-plussed and then indignant,
Hmph…after all that gyaan??!!
🙂 It’s almost like I wear a coat of cynicism to keep the skin of a dreamer’s romance warm and safe. I take off that coat sometimes but well, you don’t undress in public, do you? I save my deepest emotions for private moments.
Last night I was thinking that so very often, we are willing to take ANYONE because they are SOMEONE, even if they aren’t THE ONE. The only trouble is that we never stop trying to make them into that ONE.
And today I realized that I probably cherish the idea of romance even more than romance itself. Having an anonymous, unknown admirer was far more appealing than actually dating him. The latter brought me a lot of joy for a few weeks but some heartache and confusion as well. The first, though, put a smile on my face, every day. I miss the anonymous admirer.