Recovered from the Wayback Machine.
Is romance dead? I’m not talking about a trip into Hallmark, resulting in the dispersal of either quick wit or Profound Thought of the Moment. I’m talking about moonlight and roses, dancing until dawn, looking dreamily into each others eyes. Romance. Capital ‘R’.
Movies from the 30’s and 40’s showed ladies in long dresses being waltzed around the room by dapper men in tails. Or men sending smoldering looks across the room at their lady love. Or couples exchanging passionate kisses that you can actually feel sitting in your chair watching. No tongues. No groping.
Then the 50’s made romance silly or crude, the 60’s made it obsolete, the 70’s made it either trashy or angst filled, the 80’s put a price tag on it, the 90’s made it depressing or trite, and now here we are in a new millenium, and I’m not sure if romance, or I should say Romance, will ever show itself again.
Did we lose Romance when we burned our bras and marched for equal rights for women? Did we as women slap one too many men when they moved to open the door for us, creating whole generations of men who are hesitant to display anything even remotely resembling a gesture that can be construed as sexist?
Was it sex? Sex is a great romance killer. Think about it — why waste your time waltzing around the room, plucking a rose for your love, sending a secret note, or taking long moonlight walks when you can be in bed, doing the Big Thing? I think the crude would refer to it as “Cutting through the crap and getting to the real stuff”
Talk can also be a romance killer. We’ve progressed in our relationships to becoming good friends, exchanging and sharing thoughts on any and all topics. I think this is great — but there’s this little secret part of me that longs for the beautiful dress and being whirled around the room, the offered bloom, the look, the gentle whisper light touch.
I am a romantic. No, I am a Romantic
