A Letter of Hope to the Young Romantics
From Myers-Briggs Type Indicator to astrology, the world is full of tools to understand what kind of person we are. However, there exists a dichotomy that splits humankind in two: the romantic and the cynic.
From Myers-Briggs Type Indicator to astrology, the world is full of tools to understand what kind of person we are. However, there exists a dichotomy that splits humankind in two: the romantic and the cynic. Just like any other identity marker, they are fluid. One can remain a romantic their whole life, and another could decide to be a cynic after years of romanticisation. I am writing this piece as a romantic, a 22-year old romantic. It comes with no surprise that I am this way. I have been a victim of the romance genre, after all. The trope of having the life partner, the soulmate, my person… speaks to me. Being a romantic is the idea that although life is well-lived through self-actualisation, it is made whole with a companion alongside you.
When I talk about this vision of mine, it is not common that I would be met with a chuckle or gentle reminder:
“You’re only twenty-two,” or whatever age I was.
“You still have a whole life ahead of you. You’ll see. Things will change.” They would say.
Facts are facts. I am only twenty-two. I have a whole life ahead of me. Over time, things will change, and I will soon see that romance is not everything. Sure, I know that. I have seen enough discrepancies between romance movies and real-life love to know that love is cyclical and perpetual. I have been through the wringer myself. Twenty-two years is a long time. My life is filled with life events that chip away at my naiveté. There is so much to learn. Go find someone! Don’t find someone! Make mistakes! Don’t make mistakes! Pieces of Advice no matter how sage will lose meaning without relevance. I do notice a pattern, though. When I’m undergoing my own self-discovery journey, doing whatever the self-care girls advocate for, I still find myself yearning for that someone. What I am experiencing with myself is so wholesome and fulfilling, and I wish I could share it with someone on an intimate level. Doing so would make me feel… complete. And that is okay.
Disappointments and missed opportunities threaten my odds of developing a life with someone. However, every single time ‘reality’ hits, hope stays. If anything, it grows. Every time my ideas do not become reality, I become even more hopeful. With every disappointment, tear and heartbreak are a clearer picture of my person by my side. With every rupture and repair, alone or not, hope is there to sustain and care for you. The cynics will laugh, the sceptic would respond with ridicule, but I don’t care. This letter is not addressed to them, anyway.
This letter is addressed to the young romantic. A highly subjective identification, I consider a young romantic to be a dreamer, a believer in love but not yet seen as someone who has seen enough of the outside world by the outside world. You have lived your life with people telling you to explore, make mistakes, figure things out. Coming from older people, especially, it is something worth considering. With age comes wisdom, right? We, young romantics, are not here to contest the wise. This letter is not a rebuke to the cynic nor is it a declaration to invalidate other perspectives. If any sentiment or remarks throughout this letter do not resonate with you, it is fair to say that this is not for you. If you see yourself in this letter, welcome.
As young romantics, we see the world as a hopeful place. This world is full of possibilities and opportunities to love, and that is such a wonderful thing. Likened to the optimists, we often see the world as a glass half full. Every encounter of someone who piqued our interest, every slight touch and every tight embrace is a wonderful thing. Sure, we might wonder, is this worth it? But every time we ask ourselves that, the answer is always yes.
Recently, a significant someone cautioned me to not jump into love so quick. To him, the flame will burn out so rapidly that the relationship has little chance to last. Upon hearing that, I held my breath. I imagined an instance where my love would be held back. An imaginary scenario where I had to ask myself to ‘slow down’ feels inauthentic. It feels as though I am expecting it to end. Surely, I am not talking about a love so intense that it smothers the other. Holding myself back means not fully being myself, and that is not the point of being in love, is it? I am not the biggest fan of tug of war and the overthinking prevalent in modern dating. There is a difference between respecting someone’s pace in love and leading someone on. To avoid the latter, I would rather err on the safe side and be upfront about my feelings.
During my last stint on romance, I did walk into it wary of what this could be. The idea of two people investing time and energy into something that we were both unaware of is quite frightening. Besides, I have built a relationship with myself so strong that it would be a disservice to see it wither away at the expense of loving others. He and I came from two completely different worlds. In a way, that was both attractive and contradictory. In any case, walking blindly into love is not the best thing to do to yourself and others. So we had to make a decision eventually. Being a romantic, I wanted to make sure that I do everything right. I had to make sure that I had a plan for myself, and that I was aware of the different outcomes that this love could lead to. Ultimately, I found a direction that I was comfortable with: Loving is healing. When I love someone, it makes me feel good. The outcome of this relationship does not matter as much as how hard you try your best at this chance in love. If it does not work out, the pursuit of love also is to let go sometimes, and that is okay.
If you struggle with the same relationship patterns, constantly met with the same remarks over and over again, you begin to wonder: is there something wrong with me? You have done your absolute best to make it work and considered all the relationship advice from books and your loved ones. And yet it still failed. I don’t have the answer for you, but it certainly is not about what’s wrong. Ultimately, the best thing to do in this case is to understand. There is a conclusion in comprehension. As the relationship ends, I naturally wonder about the what-ifs. What if I had given him more space? What if I did things differently? What if I agreed to slow down? Of course, what-ifs are to remain as mere speculation. You can only control so much of everything. Trust that in time, your heart will open again.
What I am trying to articulate to you is best told by Esther Perel in one of her newsletter articles:
I still remember when, after a month together, a guy I was dating in university came to me to say he no longer wanted to continue… I was blindsided. For weeks, I carried a small torch of hope that we would reconcile. I went to all the places we used to go together: the cafeteria, the spot on the lawn, the cinema, gatherings with mutual friends. But he had vanished, taking with him our shared routines and rituals — and a good chunk of my self-worth. For months, I saw nobody and thought that nobody saw me. And then, eventually, my eyes opened again. I felt the invitation in me that would allow someone new to enter. It was the first time I experienced this, but it would not be the last. For a long time, I carried the belief that the next love would help repair the shards of the previous breakup. It helped, but not as much as accepting the reality: there is no love without the threat of loss.
When you are young, it is fair to say that there is so much of life we have yet to see. In the context of love, this means that there are so much more chances to fall for someone. Within this process of finding the romantic love that you so desire despite, there will be growth and there will be losses. Every single rupture and hurt is a confrontation, asking you “is this all worth it?” Oddly enough, through the pain, you respond with an affirming “yes.” So you help yourself and carry on, believing in the world that you can trudge into with your partner in your arms until it becomes reality. After all, it is not so much that there is anything wrong with either you or the people of your past. Rather, it is a mismatch of how both of you see and act on the love you had over time. Maybe you wanted to work it out but they didn’t, maybe it was the other way around. As much distraught loss causes, trust and believe in the process. To love fully, you are opening yourself to heartbreak regardless. That is just a fact of life. Whether or not this person is the one for you, reflect on all the good the love you had has done and let that fuel you to carry on to the next one. People might tell you to be reckless or that you are oblivious, but the most important thing is what you feel now. If you feel strongly about the notions of a romantic, embrace it. What happens later is for the future you to bear.
If you are grieving a loss, do not lose hope. Look forward to that magical moment of holding hands for the first time, look forward to the butterflies you get on the first date, be excited about another chance in a first kiss, revel in the idea that you will get to do this many a times until you meet your person. Even when you do end up with your person, you know it is not the end. You and your person will continue to keep the love going. You are a romantic after all, you know this. If you have achieved contentment in your relationship, we are all so happy for you. We know how difficult love can be, so celebrate what you have.
Lastly, I would like to remind you of the value of having an open heart. C. S. Lewis once said this in The Four Loves:
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.
The pursuit of love is a commitment, but it is a sign of a life well-lived. Moreover, you are still young. There is still time, so you can figure things out yourself first. Although that is nice and all, you and I know that there is beauty in having someone by your side as you figure out who you are. This is not to say that you cannot rely on yourself to live, but you know yourself enough to want to have a companion as you come around to your personhood. That is okay. Embrace it.
Love,
Your Resident Young Romantic
