I’ve always dreamed of the fairytale ending, a whimsical romance, that heated and passionate love. I pictured it happening so many times in my head: the foot-popping kiss and being swept away into the sunset by my version of either Prince or Princess Charming for happy-ever-after.
The reality for me, though, has been so distant from these fantasies. I’ve never lost myself in delightful daydreams or felt compelled to write luxurious love letters filled with flowery language and vivid detail. My heart has been filled with longing, but never that deep, burning desire that consumes. I’ve never felt that thirst or longed for someone with passionate hunger. There’s never been that kiss that makes me weak at the knees, nor have I felt an electrifying touch that simply made me melt.
Things have always just been more basic and practical, I suppose. I’ve had crushes, felt attraction, gotten hot and steamy, but it’s always been… average, mid-range, even at times mundane. There’s never been that spark, just a slow and steady smolder that never flashes into flames.
I used to convince myself that I just hadn’t found the one for me yet, I was still searching for the right being to ignite my fire. But, as the years go by and I watch that passion build between others, I think the real problem with it all is actually the woman in the mirror. The obstacle in my fairytale is that the “fair maiden” is just me.
Everyone may deserve true love, but perhaps others deserve it to be more elegant than mine. Perhaps fairytales simply were never written to be meant for me. Although I possess the skill for writing grandiloquent and verbose pledges of my love, in the end, I simply lack the muse. Shouldn’t I simply be satisfied that I have anything at all?
I think that there’s complexity in both life and love. Real romance lives in the hearts of dreamers, but it doesn’t burn for me.
I may never get a foot-popping kiss or someone who will sweep me off my feet, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have happiness in the common life I lead. Sometimes there’s comfort in simplicity and routine. I may never feel that love that envelops me, but I think that I’ll survive without it just fine and be happy anyway.