hopeless romantic


If I had a Valentine I’d serve him breakfast in bed wearing black lingerie along with my favourite Louboutin’s and make sure to send him off to work with red lipstick on his cheeks.
Valentine’s day may be an American consumption contrivance but still it has become a day that is printed into most women’s diaries single or not in the hope that this day is a bit more romantic than all the other 364 days of the year. Well at least the romantic set of women. I am no exception.

When I awoke this morning I remembered that I still hadn’t put my name on the door bell outside since I moved in to my apartment 3 months ago.
My romantic perhaps optimistic mind quickly arranged a nice sign with my name to put on the door bell so that the flower messenger should not go in vain.

However I guess I'll have to remind myself not to get disappointed tonight when I go to bed without having had that special surprise today of an unexpected delivery.

I sure am the hopeless romantic. I’ve seen Pride and Prejudice more than a hundred times and it’s still my all time favourite romantic movie. Mr. Darcy makes my heart melt every time.

Today is also the second day of my 28th year. On Saturday my girlfriends celebrated me and we went out dancing at the local club. As people around us greeted me congrats I was approached with, 28! Then you sure should think of getting some kids soon. Well maybe it was a clumsy way to start a conversation or is it really the expectation when you’re approaching the thirties? Everyday when I open my Facebook I get bombarded with baby pictures and announcements’ of engagements, marriage and ‘we are pregnant with twins’.

As I was just about to comment on what seemed to a general statement I had to focus on my drink that nearly splashed out on the guy as my girlfriend bumbed into me eager to tell me about a flirt she’d just met on the other side of the bar. “He’s so nice and kind, good looking too. We’ve been dancing and talking, and it feels so good. I think he’s really something. He asked for my number.” “That’s great! I responded, where is he?”  “Over there, she pointed, but he’s married and has two kids.”

Last summer I experienced a real heartache and I stopped believing in love for a while. There’s nothing unusual about that. But in that moment, I did get a little stress about the whole settling down, marriage and kids stuff. I thought if this was not supposed to be love and lasting then it’s never gonna happen. What is love nowadays? Where are the Lizzy and Mr. Darcy stories? Do they exist at all today? And what’s the deal about married men fishing for affaires? Women as well. And also why does the Lizzy and Mr. Darcy relationships stop and separate when they reach 7 years, which is what the statistics prove.

No I’m not stressed about having kids before reaching a certain age or getting married. I’m more worried about if lasting love exists? Is it possible to be that hopeless romantic person in this quickly reacting world were we change partners as we change underwear?

However my Indian hand reader assured me that I would get married at 30 years old, getting my first child at 33 years old and my second as a 36 year old. Superstition or not he actually kept my previous concerns about that topic with him. Bam!

I’m not going to stop being an old-fashioned romantic with penchant for American marketing contrivance.
I like Valentine’s day as a day and tradition to celebrate love were some people hopefully stop up and take time out of there busy schedule to appreciate and spoil their beloved.

No noice from the door bell yet. I’ll make myself a nice cup of tea now, find my Pride and Prejudice dvd, put on a nice joggin and rejoice over all the fine flowers I got on my birthday from my lovely girlfriends when I once in a while look up from the movie smiling and dreaming.

One thing is sure my love for Mr. Darcy will last forever.

Happy Valentine's

xxx / Kris


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