Posts Tagged ‘romantic’

If there existed meetings of Hopeless Romantics Anonymous, I’d probably go, because though I know I am one, I often think I’d be better off cured, on the wagon, climbing those twelve steps to “recovery.”  Is there a patch, I wonder?  But then I think the cure would likely be worse than the disease so perhaps the devil I know is yet better than the one I don’t.

It’s the romantic in me that still believes somewhere in this world is some one who is “right” for me, who will love me for everything thing I am and am not, who will love me more wholly and deeply than I can yet dream.  But it’s the hopeless, the cynic in me that waits quietly for me to unlock the door, enter the empty room, turn on the light, and glance at the answering machine that, most nights, stares blankly back.  No one waits on the other side of the door, no one calls hoping to catch me at home, no one even writes … my mailbox is full of bills and flyers and junk but rarely a letter from someone I know.

Half of it’s my fault, I know.  I more often focus on work, put very little effort into a social life, rarely write anyone without them having written first…  And so the cycle continues.  The hopeless part of the hopeless romantic rears his ugly head.  We go way back, we two.  He taught me a long time ago that love always ends in pain.  That the pain is always greater than the love that spawned it.  That it hurts and haunts long, long after the love has faded.  He is bleak and cynical, derogatory and fatalistic.  I don’t like him, but I can’t seem to shake him, either.  For better or worse, the hopeless comes with the romantic, in more ways than one.

Most days I do my best to ignore him.  But he also taught me that apathy can live a long and uneventful life, which has been a saving grace over the years, so I can’t ignore him completely.  Perhaps it is best said that, most days, I try not to believe everything he tells me.

Because I do like believing that somewhere in this impossibly large world there exists someone who fits – perfectly – against the jagged edges of the puzzle pieces of my life.

[ Snapple fact # 309  –  Ancient Egyptians believed the “vein of love” ran from the third finger of the left hand to the heart. ]

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