…but I’m a cynical, old bitch
Wicked Wednesday #42
How do you define romance? What to you is a romantic act or an example of a romantic personality?
I’m pretty sure I’ve said more than once here that I don’t believe in romance. Perhaps I should clarify that statement.
I don’t believe in romance for me. If it works for you then I’m delighted. I think it’s a glitch in my personality, I just don’t like sharing some parts of me with others.
I would define romance as the crap you see in films, on TV or read about in novels. Mostly the characters are young, pretty, have money, freedom – those things which make romance a possibility – being whisked away for a romantic weekend in Paris, an intimate dinner in a favourite restaurant, a tasteful, but expensive gift. Hearts and flowers, and even if things aren’t quite perfect, they soon will be. I rarely watch romantic films, I can’t connect to the majority of characters or storylines and I can’t let go enough to just enjoy the story. The same applies to romantic fiction and erotica, there’s no connection. I might read the occasional chick lit if I find it in the charity shop and I’m in the mood for fluff I don’t need to think about, and I do like to read short erotic pieces on blogs, but I don’t have the patience to read much of it. I do read a lot of fiction but I tend to stick to horror, fantasy or books about serial killers. No connection with the characters but I find I can let go more easily.
I know you can have romance without all the bells and whistles, sometimes it only takes a small gesture – doing something nice for someone you love – even if it’s taking over making the dinner or giving them a silly card just because.
One of the problems I have with romance is that romantic gestures have been few and far between in my life, for most of it the closest I got was a bunch of roses (which I hate) and a box of Milk Tray (which I also hate). And this was more of an obligation than a romantic gesture – last minute at a petrol station job because his sister had reminded him it was Valentine’s or Mother’s Day. There were never any other signs of romance. In twenty odd years we went for dinner once, to the pub maybe three or four times, and to the cinema once. We had two family holidays to visit relatives here in Ireland. Never any spontaneity or just because…and blah, blah, blah.
Another problem is Disney. Ever since I saw Bambi, stupid I suppose, but I don’t believe in happy endings. I always preferred the bad guys, still do. They always get the best lines. And Hollywood romance is always bullshit. I do like the girl in Brave though, I would have loved to have been able to watch her when I was a kid. And I love her hair!
Now I find I’m too cranky and cynical for it. I don’t have the patience for games. I find I don’t know how to respond if someone does something nice, I always wonder what they’re after. I don’t like surprises, or having money spent on me, it makes me uncomfortable. For a little while things were OK, like I say, silly little gestures, but I started to feel uncomfortable about things again.
I don’t do well with people getting too close to me, unless they want to fuck me. Too many times ending up in situations I didn’t want.
If you’re interested in me you don’t have to be romantic or pretend to love me, because now I’ll probably just laugh in your face.
More Wicked Wednesday here.