An Acceptable Romance.

Trying to pinpoint what romantic love is and the pleasure of pointlessness with Wendy Syfret

In this short essay, I honestly try to pinpoint what romantic love is, at this moment, in a few different stages. Starting with that I read once that you can try to trick yourself into falling back in love by remembering how it felt to fall in love with someone. If you are in that very real part of a romantic relationship where you have to actively remember the good parts to make it through the day, read on. (Also there is a quick rant on porn.)

Every year, around this time of year I get to spend some concentrated time thinking about love. Dissecting it, defining it, and placing myself within it. I am a person who loves to think about love. Who is so motivated to understand what love is I am not sure anything else really matters.

The question I am lucky to get to ask myself is, “What does romantic love look like at this moment? Where are the tender spots? How can we find them?” It might be good to define what I am talking about when I use the term “romantic love.” This may seem simple, but once I started thinking about it, the term kinda is a combo platter of Erotic love, Obsessive Love, Playful Love, and Enduring Love as defined by the Greeks below:

(Rosie Chomet image credit)

As always, it is for me easiest to pinpoint my perception of love to the moment I am in. And right now, I am kinda lost. Lost on all fronts of my life including what “romantic love” is.

So how do you locate the depth of love when you are feeling apathetic to life? I don’t know. But a starting spot is to remember. To remember how it felt to feel. And so this newsletter is that. If you are feeling apathetic to life and love, please accept this as an invitation to remember.

Let’s start with a fun one. Imagine dreaming about being in love. What did that feel like? For me, it always looked like it did in romantic comedies. Like the ones with teen romances. Where the geeky girl (often played by me) finds herself with the jock dude’s heart in her hands (always played by Dave Johnson). Walking together in a hallway.

I had this one dream over and over about reenacting this scene from the 2001 movie Serendipity. (watch the trailer. Notice how it makes you feel.) This song is playing. More accurately it is not a scene per se that excites me about this. It is more so the idea that there is someone out there that you are meant to be with and that they are currently looking for you. There is a magnetism that is unexplainable. And the signs. I love the idea of signs. I find them really comforting. I find the idea of running into someone from high school intoxicating. When in reality, the chances are quite high that at some point you would have chance encounters with people from your past. The statistics are in your favor. (unless like me, you never leave your house.) The ascribing of meaning to random events makes me feel a sense of purpose - when there might be none.

When I remember what it felt like to have a hand to hold, my body aches. When I saw Josh on the corner of Broadway and Van Ness on a cold October night, I remember having to remind myself to breathe. That the thought of him made my body forget its basic operations. So naturally, we sat down for dinner, I got drunk for my body to resume functioning. I wore a black vintage dress that was slightly too small and showed sweat rings so I kept my jacket on even tho it was so hot in the restaurant. Not wanting to take the chance that he would notice and then know that I was a sweater. Yep. One of those people who leek. I remember thinking things like, “I cannot believe how smart this person is. How refined. How every part of him, even his sadness was alluring.” Sadness sometimes to me is attractive. Sexy even.

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I didn’t grow up on porn. I grew up on 16 Candles. On My So-Called Life. I feel lucky for this fact in most ways - for example, my ideals are basically just two people who like each other holding hands. It is problematic in other larger cultural ways - 16 Candles blows my mind recently on what it was ok to say and do in the ‘80’s. But I cannot imagine what it would be like to grow up on the romantic expectations that porn provides. That would be hard. Getting someone I liked to want to hold my hand was hard enough. If love, true love (defined however you feel like) looked like porn, I wouldn’t know where to begin. I mean, the beginning, middle, and end would be all my least favorite parts of love. I like every day of love. I like falling in love with love. I like the context surrounding it.

I am one of the fortunate people who believe wholeheartedly in Helen Fisher’s claim that the chances if you like someone they like you back. From a biological level. Like it just makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint. We need to re-produce. It is part of survival. It comforts me in the uncertainty of love. That we love to survive.

However, sometimes it feels like it might be almost easier to love someone if you cannot have them. For love to actually endure, it is no chance or luck, it is work. They seldom talk about the work that goes into an enduring love. That is not romantic. Or is it? My jury is out.

The central problem with enduring love is it requires that both parties have the delusion that life will be better with the other. That the story we have been fed about growing old together is one of aging with beauty, grace, and above all acceptance. It also adds “Selfless Love” to the “Romantic Love” definition. And there is something intrinsically connective about being together. That it is more than convenience and circumstance. Love is a beautiful painful mess. The best kind.

Is acceptance different than romance? Are they the same? I feel like they might be. At least for me. I suppose that I can romanticize anything.

Slowly, tho, I am coming to terms with the fact that to be loved, truly madly deeply for being myself, it must mean also that I can never really be seen. There are too many contradictions to being.

Next week, I will go back to where I am at. Please take this nice break from sadness to express your love to someone. To be grateful for their continued existence in your life. I need to do that.

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Book giveaway!

This week, I am excited to be talking with Melbourne based writer, editor, and author of 3 books, Wendy Syfret, about her book The Sunny Nihilist. We have a couple copies to giveaway, comment here if you’re interested:

A positively rebellious take on a traditionally negative philosophy offers an antidote for our anxious times.

Career success, a beautiful life, a beautiful Instagram account—what's the point? In a world where meaning has become twisted into a form of currency that everyone is very keen to cash in on, journalist Wendy Syfret invites you to change the way you think about the way you think.

In her seminal work, The Sunny Nihilist, Syfret presents the optimism in Nihilism, encouraging us to dismantle our self-care and self-centered way of living and accept a life more or less ordinary. Syfret re-examines the meaning of worth, value, time, happiness, success, and connection, and guides us towards the alternative path of pointless pleasure.

When you let go of the idea that everything must have purpose, you will find relief from stress, exhaustion, and anxiety. Most importantly, you can embrace the opportunity to enjoy the moment, the present, the chaos and luck of being alive at all. The Sunny Nihilist is an inspiring call to action and survival adaptation for modern life.

You can also order a copy of the book here or here or at your favorite book store.

I also revisited my conversation with Paul Bloom on his book The Sweet Spot yesterday that you can check out here. This interview is definitely a highlight of mine:

Can we live a "good" life without suffering?

As always, thanks for being here with me. What is something nice you could do for yourself this week?

Feeling grateful for this life. And you. XO, Carissa