Today’s post was written by Patience Virtue and published with permission.
I have been having many thoughts and much feels about romance this week.
Mostly they all boil down to a deep settling ache in my torso that is the fear that I will never find whatever it is that I’m looking for. That I’ve just fallen into the classic Gemini trap of wanting too much from romance.
Too much perfection. Too much devotion and adoration. Too much for a fellow human to be able to give. I’m tired.
And now I’m at the pathetic point of crying pitifully at every romance film. Which I still watch because I want it so bad but I don’t know exactly how to get it or if it will even be as satisfying as I’ve built it up to be in my head.
And it’s so hard to pin down exactly what it is I want. Because I don’t want a scripted set of actions so much as I want that *feeling*
That *feeling* that I can’t put into words
That feeling like you are more wanted than anyone has ever been wanted in the history of wanting. That feeling like for a few moments a day you are someone’s entire universe and they are yours. That feeling like nothing about you could be more perfectly loved by them than the you that you are right now.
That feeling like they literally cannot get enough of your skin and your breath and the sound of your voice. Just for a few minutes a day I want *that.*
And I feel like a bad feminist who’s fallen for patriarchal fairy tale lies for wanting this but HOLY COW DO I WANT IT
That feeling like they are fighting to retain their very self in the breadth of your existence and their existence sharing space for a few moments of ethereal bliss.
I don’t want perfection so much as I want… passion. Like, heat-of-a-thousand-stars PASSION
and I just don’t understand why if you feel that way you can’t just let me feel it too.