One day removed from Valentines I turn my exhausted mind to romance. As I often do, my thoughts turn and revolve considering what romance really means to me. What does the word truly entail? If I was to see an act, how would I define the romantic from the unromantic. I must say, it was a difficult definitional challenge and one I can not undertake within the short span of attention I am usually able to conjure when delving into written thought. Instead of giving you a definition through vague conceptual terms I will tackle the question differently.
I will narrate acts which when I witness them bring forth surges of romantic inclinations within. Romance cannot be defined within a single day, instead romance is grounded by the foundational simplicity of daily actions, which when are stacked upon each other build a tower of love and romance that cannot, in my humble mind, be disputed. I see youthful glances and well worn stares shared among the young and experienced lovers alike, expressing well misunderstood feelings which, despite thousands of years of well meaning contemplation are still not truly understood. A young hand brushing away chaotic strands of hair from a frustrated visage and a lovingly patient smirk reacting to stressed and angry response colour my day of cinematic moments. A gentle hand resting on a tense shoulder and the relaxed comfort of two bodies sitting side by side enjoying the light contact that only two familiar bodies can share. The carefully uttered validations passed between two people and the excited jittering that occurs when anticipating that meeting of a new and seemingly perfect interest.
The key to all of the moments I have been appreciative of witnessing is that they are never rehearsed but are expressions of what each one of us can individually offer to another. Each romantic act I have spoken above are shaded by the personality of the individual, and though they have flaws I see the beauty of each action, the virtue which emanates and fluidly encompasses those which we wish to share our experiences with. All the above moments and the like can occur naturally, possibly hundreds of times between the same individuals, occurring without notice and if noticed rarely ever considered.
I turn now to what romance is not. Romance is not benign. On the contrary romance can be terribly dangerous. When I see the struggle of romance I hear the powerful words of Reagan telling the world to "tear down this wall!" Each act of romance when accepted structurally weakens the walls which we surround ourselves. Each brick removed is one defence that has been diverted or converted into a possible weapon. Its a baring of our soul. When that young man brushed her hair from her eyes he is telling her that he is willing to risk great pain at her hands and the same can be said when she lightly touches his shoulder. Romance is never nor should it be if it is to remain beautiful and worth while, benign.
Most importantly I wish to end my short treatise on the question that has plaguing me most. Why? If the risk and the pain that can occur when romance expresses itself is terrifyingly palatable why do we sentimentalize romance so? At first I did not have an answer (and I may still lack one) but when I continued to turn and analyze the problem I couldn't help but come to a simple conclusion, and please excuse me if its unappetizing but … what else shall we risk all for other than for our fellow romantics?
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