If I ever breach this brand of singleness before I’m thirty, please slap the silly out of me.
“Love is actually all around.” It sure is, and sometimes it’s depressing. It’s been equally hard maintaing any type of romantic relationship while in this midst of project. I’ve equally set up unrealistic expectations from these movies and some of my own. But, in the process, I’ve learned so much as a woman who deserves a good relationship.
Tips to the girl who has been broken-hearted one too many times. It’s okay to want a relationship. It’s okay to be the cool girl. So, it’s okay to be the cool girl who wants a relationship. I know the type of a woman I am. I know what I deserve. I’m the type of girl that doesn’t need your attention desperately, but needs you to pay attention. I don’t need to be wine and dined all the time, but consideration into a good night never hurts. More importantly, I want to be in love. And being in love doesn’t change the type of woman I am, if anything, it makes me better. I’ve been afraid to admit I’m the cool girl who wants a relationship. I’ve been great at playing cool to the ubiquitous “new guy,” but eventually I always want more. In turn, that’s where being cool backfires.
Like all of Jane Austen’s novels, Sense and Sensibility serves its devout focus on the female heroines. What came into mind as I watched the film, is that undoubtedly the displays of affection have not changed over time. Cloaked with even the sweetest of English accents, and to no avail you will find me cringing at the ridiculousness that is birthed from affection. Maybe that’s why so many females can relate to Austen’s work, she understands that women can be sensible. But much to our dismay, our sensibility is mistaken for lack of common sense. How does that even happen? But, I will admit, even in my darkest times, my own logic sounds like bat shit. Anyways, back to the cringing. My friends know me as the Bitter Betty of relationship-dom. It’s not that I don’t like displays of affection, I do. I just strongly dislike overtly gross public displays of affection. I’m sure someone has created a meter for such vile acts. Yeah, I get it. You really love him. Okay, I don’t need to know how much you love him by sticking your tongue down his throat while you take a picture. I think I’m good.
So my theories that remain are: to be sensible is to be crazy, to make out in public is still gross no matter the century. The end.