october 1: on romance
Good morning,
Do you consider yourself romantic? A date asked me this many months ago. When he posed the question, I felt a bit caught off guard, despite the fact that it was asked while we were watching one of my favorite romantic comedies. I laughed and shifted in embarrassment, perhaps wanting to prove I was a skeptic of the grandeur and heteronormative ways romance is presented in so many rom coms (and certainly not wanting to be perceived as a Sally searching for her Harry). I probably said something like “um, it depends.” I’ve found myself coming back to the question lately.
I think one of the reasons I don’t have a simple yes or no answer is because I can’t readily define the word “romantic.” My connotation of the word is largely rooted in my pop culture consumption, where the lines between romance and love and beauty and fantasy and flirtation and courtship tend to blur. Plus, romance as a concept almost feels too sappy and frivolous to be taken seriously. When I looked up “romantic” in the dictionary, the second and third definitions read “having no basis in fact” and “impractical in conception or plan,” respectively, ha.
Back when I first downloaded Tik Tok in 2020, there was this viral trend I kept seeing. “You have to start romanticizing your life,” a voice tried to convince me over an uplifting cinematic score. The sound was layered over videos of people making their beds, swirling oat milk into their coffees, going for their little socially distanced walks, etc. I rolled my eyes at the way people were romanticizing the pandemic, but there was something alluring and calming about the videos.
Another way I’ve been thinking about it: Is being romantic being dramatic? On the song “New Romantics,” Taylor Swift, a pop star known for dramatics, “makes crying in the bathroom sound like a bold spiritual quest,” as writer Rob Sheffield puts it. “Please take my hand and / please take me dancing / and please leave me stranded,” Swift pleads, her voice saturated with desperation. “It's so romantic /ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!” (!!!!!!)
I posed the original question to some friends last week. One replied: “People assume that I have this dispositional romanticism, but I'm actually much more pragmatic in my own dealings with love.” That really resonated with me. If you know me, you know I tend to crush hard. I love to indulge in early stage/surface level romanticism, but it rarely leads me to a lasting love. Another friend reminded me of the truism: Romantic love was invented to manipulate women, à la Jenny Holzer.
I often think of romantic love in contrast to platonic love, but of course they don’t have to be in competition. This Lora Mathis piece makes a case for platonic intimacy and presents ideas that are far more intriguing to me than any of my above thoughts on romance. Or at least I think they support a mindset that could produce more grounded building blocks for a relationship, romantic or platonic.
Anyway, I still don’t know if I consider myself romantic, but entertaining the idea this much has to count for something.
Do you have a definition of romance? What’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to you? Have a romantic song to share? LMK <3
Some things from my September:
I haven’t been able to get enough of this Indigo De Souza album
The most stunning sunset I’ve maybe ever seen, witnessed while driving to Baltimore for the first time (I didn’t take any photos because of the aforementioned driving, but check out this thread!)
The thrill and delight of getting to know a new friend
The third season of Sex Education on Netflix (Bekki and I would really like to exist in the show’s comforting fictional world)
This exceptional sidewalk flowerbed
Running Auggie’s first road race with him, which included an earnest request for a race detour to the nearby library (let’s normalize mid-race reading breaks, am I right?? cc Chicago Marathon organizers)
A simple creamy potato spinach soup (good soup) from the Runner’s World cookbook that I make every time the temperature drops
Spencer Finch’s “Trying to Remember the Color of the Sky on That September Morning” (2014)
Judging books by their covers (Behold, the Book Blob; “Creative nonconformity can be found, it just might be on the periphery.”)
Incredible-smelling and even-better-tasting falafel that my friends and I found by following our noses at the Mount Pleasant farmers market
Hearing the opening notes of Waxahatchee's St. Cloud live at Wolf Trap, the first time in a long time that I’ve cried happy tears
Also, happy dahlia season to all who celebrate! I’m hoping to visit this dahlia farm in Oregon in a future September. I’d also settle for visiting the one that’s home to this phenomenal peachy bouquet. Spectacularly romantic, some might say.
Best of luck,
Elle