There are few benefits for the romantic himself. It can be absolutely amazing for the person he’s dating, but they only see half the story.
There’s the extra pain when things don’t work out. You know they were the one. Are the one. You feel it stronger than you have the words to explain.
But sometimes that just isn’t enough.
And you are left to pull yourself out of the rubble.
You keep digging to find the relationship black box, and spend months studying the findings.
Trying to undo that which can’t be.
Promises of a future take a long time to erase mistakes of the past.
There are also the exhausting and impossibly high standards to which you hold yourself.
If you’re not careful, you can let that obscure the important things. The daily things. The things that take any old relationship and make it one of the great ones.
If you’re even less careful, you can only realize that when it is too late.
Maybe it’s ego, or maybe it’s idealism, but I feel like if I can write it exactly as I feel it, it will win anyone over.
But maybe it won’t.
Maybe women don’t care about that.
Maybe women don’t really care about the things that are my strengths.
Could it be that women sometimes list the things that they’re looking for, things they see on Pinterest, but at the end of the day, they want nice forearms, hair, and bank accounts?
Maybe I should worry less about that part offending you.
Maybe the bad guys have it figured out. I keep seeing cheaters, and those that don’t call when they say they will, and dudes who try to keep a woman down, getting second and third chances.
I once wrote, ““yeah…/ nice guys finish last…/ after she’s finished / five or six times”
But maybe I’m playing the game by a different set of rules than everyone else. And maybe that should be seen as a strength.
Maybe it’s not.
It’s such a long drop when a romantic loses his idealism, I think.
Maybe the pedestal was always missing a leg.
Maybe my Future Wife letters will end up being moved to the fiction section.
But I swear to fuck that I’ll fight against that with everything I have.
There’s the connection, that only a romantic can feel, that feeds you and fuels you, inspires you and opens you up. You see even more possibilities than you previously imagined.
A fully engaged heart breaks into many more pieces, of course, but that’s the price for letting it have the chance to really pump.
I don’t think I want to be a romantic anymore.