Just saw Pride and Prejudice (loved it!) and now I'm wondering if being a hopeless romantic dooms you to a lifetime of hopelessness in romance.
With the fantastically active imagination that is my own, I've allowed the powerful love stories from books and films I've consumed over the years to have a role in how I think relationships should play out. Now I haven’t thwarted suitors because the gentleman couldn’t or wouldn’t offer his undying love to me at dawn, in an English meadow, wearing rumpled early 19th century clothing, and looking hotter than hot could ever be. That would be nice, to be sure. Usually it was because they were stupid jerks who couldn't hold a conversation, or maybe make an attempt to get their asses off the couch once in awhile. But I digress. . .
I had said in an earlier posting, that I wasn't going to go the route of the Bridget Jones-esque writers. The female need to constantly brood over the opposite sex just doesn't seem appealing to me. When we're in relationships we're dissecting and analyzing the state of the match. When we're not in relationships, we're wondering why we're not in one. Mighty tedious indeed.
That’s not to say I don't step back and wonder what the hell is going on from time to time. What am I doing wrong? What are they doing wrong? Is the universe against me? Can Oprah help?
And yet each time I come to pretty much the same conclusion. . . . Fuck if I know.
I'm still not convinced that there anything wrong with thinking the one, great and ultimate love of your life will cause the rest of the world to fall away, will see you as you should be seen, and ignore wealthy aunts if she thinks he's marrying below his station to be with you.
Married folks will probably say there's plenty wrong. Because real life is where relationships live. Rational Angie would agree, and knows this is true.
But crazy Angie (who's bigger and stronger and usually wins out) is still holding on to her dreams. She's sorry and asks all you practical people to leave her alone.