When asked what my favorite genre of movies, shows or books, I respond with one singular word, romance. To that I hear that I am a hopeless romantic. And I would like to agree with one small change; I’m not at a loss of hope but full of the wish for it.
I spent my first spring break in college, in my bed watching the same old romance or romantic comedies, better known as rom coms. As I receive countless dating app, Instagram, and Snapchat notifications of all the men in my phone, I watch men yearn for their significant others in all these movies, books, and shows.
Often, looking at my ceiling, “please God, anybody, give me this, all I want is to have this love!”
I want someone to pull up to my home, knock on the door with a bouquet of flowers, open all the doors, pay for dinner, have nice conversations and then take me home, give me a kiss and tell me that they had a great time and want to know when I am free again, because they love being around me. I want them to text me every morning and hope that my day is great, and sometimes, just sit in a comfortable silence.
As much as watching these movies and shows and reading the books, it shows a type of love that I crave, that I am reaching out to, and getting nothing close to reaching it. Therefore, my bar is in hell, and I keep allowing myself to leave it there. I would continuously let men tell me that I am sexy and hot but not find the ones who call me beautiful and pretty. I allowed myself to text the ones who only text after one a.m. and not the ones who will be with you at any moment, just wanting to be together. But I have stopped. I have stopped texting them back, stop looking in general.
But I choose to stay a hopeful romantic, because if it happens, it happens.
Plus, who needs a man when I have friends and my mom, who will tell me I look beautiful and then hold me when I cry over a stupid thing. Or my mom, who will tell me how to go to doctor’s appointments and laugh with me in the kitchen. But I also fill my own cup, I don’t need anyone to fill my life, they would have to add to it. I pay my own bills, I take myself to doctor’s appointments, with a little help, of course, I work three jobs, I am in multiple clubs. I have a full life without them, requiring them to add to it. Genuinely, I don’t have time for the annoying men who only care about getting you naked. If I make time, I want to be appreciated and loved for who I am, not if I get undressed.
Do I wish every scroll, read sentence, and watch of a movie? Pretty much, yes. Do I require it? No. But I am hopeful.