To put it nicely, I am a hopeless romantic. To put it rudely, I am a desperate, young woman, who needs romance they way some people need their next hit of nicotine.
And since, added to this pile of a mess that I am, I am also an inveterate daydreamer, quite a few nice romantic scenarios cross my mind on a daily basis, and most of them are too good not to share. For instance, today, the romantic scenario popped into my head, perfect for any rom-com or movie if anyone of you out there are interested in writing and directing one, of a girl who is revived using CPR by a handsome savior, who then wakes up in hospital with said handsome savior sitting by her bed, concerned for her well-being, and enraptured by her beauty, rather like a twist of the Sleeping Beauty fairytale. Wonderful, isn’t it? As I imagined it, I put myself in the place of the woman, and the entire thing was so delicious and romantic, I actually smiled in real life, right in the middle of the First Aid class. Talk about embarrassing.
Oh. And here’s another one. A young woman goes wandering in the forest, looking for her grandmother (okay, I might be basing them all off of fairytales in this post, but, you know me, I love stuff like this, where there’s a pattern to it and it’s all Disney-like). To her surprise, instead of her grandmother, she encounters an evil, bad wolf, and only with the help of the handsome huntress, who slays the wolf, saves her grandmother, and kisses her in the end, is the young woman able to escape the forest, free and unharmed. Okay, perhaps that one ran a little too close to the fairytale. Oh goodness, my fingers are flying across the page—I made the mistake of buying and drinking some Coca-Cola today, forgetting it contains caffeine, and now my insides are all jazzed up.
Come on, I know there are some more inside of me. I spend a good fifty-percent of my time daydreaming, so there’s plenty of juicy material to be had. Let’s see. Oh! If we’re going to run with the fairytale theme here, we might as well go with it. Cinderella. A poor, penniless young woman (me), somehow manages to meet a rich, handsome man, who somehow falls in love with her—together, they while away their time riding private jets and visiting hotels, and eventually, she convinces him to spend most of his fortune on helping the poor and the world’s abandoned children, and on animal cruelty, because, after all, Cinderella is meant to have a kind heart. That one is a favourite of mine, if only for the ending—and the fact that I’ve certainly never stayed at a luxury hotel before.
Beauty and the Beast. Well, to be honest, there’s nothing to work with here, because I can’t imagine a modern re-telling without some serious plastic surgery to take place, and I certainly would find it rather strange to fall in love with someone only after they’d had their face artificially altered. Let’s find another one. Usually I’m absolutely boiling with romantic daydreams. I’m lost, alone and sobbing, trying to escape a terrible, arranged marriage, to a cruel and lewd man. In order to escape, I traverse, on a suicidal mission, on a boat into the darkest areas of the nearby sea, ready to float away into oblivion, only for my boat to rock up on an island where a young, handsome stranger has been living, keeping a deep, dark secret, which I must unlock if I am to escape with him from the island together.
Then there’s the book I’m writing at the moment, called The Woodlands, which is basically, in a nutshell, and which I will eventually type up and post on Wattpad, is about a romance between a young woman and one of the fae, an otherworldly young man with vivid green eyes. But there are so many more inside of me—if I could just turn the right tap, I’m sure all of them will come gushing right out. Imagine if there was a young man, wounded and alone after a battle, who stumbles alone to my cottage—okay, I might have read a story like this somewhere, but still, nevermind, how romantic!—and, obviously, I heal him, and he happens to be drop-dead gorgeous, and after bringing him back to life, with my tender and loving hands, he awakens and falls completely and utterly in love with me! How convenient! Daydreams often are.
Or, if we go in a more realistic direction, a young man stumbles across my blog or reads one of my books, and happens to fall in love with me, and we somehow reach out to one another and start talking online and then we meet up in real life and we fall in love and get married and have kids and live happily ever after.
The dark truth is, most likely, most probably, unless some Divine intervention takes place—and I still don’t know yet if it will—nothing particularly wonderful and romantic will ever happen to me. I have lived enough years on this planet to know that real life and fantasies almost never match. Red Riding Hood might be saved by the wolf, but that doesn’t mean the hunter will fall in love with her—most likely he’s already married, and has got kids of his own. In real life, rich people tend to fall in love with other beautiful rich people; people do get plastic surgery in order to make themselves more attractive in the dating market, especially in Asian countries; and I don’t have any nursing or medical abilities whatsoever, and would, in reality, just stand by and watch as some handsome young man fell in love with some capable, beautiful young nurse. Everyday of my life, I watch other couples happy together, I see families, I see husbands and wives, girlfriends and boyfriends, and inside, I heave a little sigh, because it might never happen to me, this business of falling in love, not in this dark, dreary world they call reality.
In the real world, there are no fairytales. There are only nightmares. So far, at least. My life is devoid of anything romantic whatsoever—even my taste of it, when I ventured into the world of dating for a little while, was bitter and uncomfortable, because the kiss I shared with the man was one of the worst experiences of my life. It was enough to make me wonder if I was, in fact, lesbian (I’m not, just to clarify).
So, handsome, young men, looking for odd, kind and creative daydreamers, where are you? Are you actually out there? Do you really exist? Maybe you are reading these words right now, in which case, call me, my number is — just kidding, I wouldn’t make my number public on the internet. Either way, if you are reading these words right now, just know there is someone out there who yearns for you just as much as you probably yearn for me, and I know this is but a shout in the darkness, an echo, but maybe one day we’ll meet, in real life, and maybe the person behind these words will be close enough to touch and maybe we’ll love each other and everything will be all peachy and fine.
And then again, maybe not.