Romanticism love stories

justsomeguy Welcome to lament city, population me.
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
Romanticism Why, oh why was I cursed to be a hopeless romantic. Why couldn’t I just be born blind or deaf or something else.



Why, oh why was I cursed to be a hopeless romantic. Why couldn’t I just be born blind or deaf or something else.

Because being a hopeless romantic is ten times more handicapping than both of those. My next romance is always on my mind. I see the potential of finding “the one” in every girl I see.

(Well, only the pretty ones, of course). I want to believe that to find her I won’t have to try at all, and that fate will make sure we fall for each other at the perfect time.

That I won’t even have to try. Maybe at first sight, we’ll both know that we’ve both finally found each other and embrace in a passionate kiss in the middle of the street.

You see what I mean? How delusional I am? This way of thinking has brought me much pain and embarrassment over the years.

I’m not afraid to ask a random girl out on a date, like I’m in some sort of romcom. I think that a big part of why I’m like this is because of my Truman Syndrome playing tricks with me.

But I’ll talk about that some other day. Right know we need to get down the root of my problems.

After my last ruined relationship, I started to go back to my old view on dating. Which was pretty much just looking for a passtime and some physical affection to curb my lust.

That hasn’t gone away, and as a matter of fact I’m more of a fuckboy than I’ve ever been. But my romanticism has come back, surprisingly.

Whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing, I have yet to find out.

I remember how happy I was when I started to be “committed” to a relationship for the first time in my life last summer when I dated someone who I thought had the potential to be “the one”.

The wounds of that last disaster have healed a bit, enough to where I can look back on it and appreciate the good times and what I felt,

instead of looking back and only being salty and mad about the whole thing. (Which I still very much am, by the way.

) With my romanticism back, it clashes with my already established view on dating, the one where fun is the top priority. So now I have two dating styles. One, the way I’ve been since day one.

The one where I can say “fuck it, why not” to all forms of intimacy. And the second, where I actually want to be the “committed” type.

Reserved only for girls that have the potential of being “the one.” I highly doubt that I’ll find a girl that will get the second type anytime soon.

But I have a feeling that when I meet one that’ll deserve the second type, I’ll know. Because she’s out there.

People have asked me before if I thought that soul mates exist, and the answer was always “maybe.” Before I knew of the frightening (but beautiful) power of love.

Now that I’ve felt it, I’m sure she’s out there. Probably wondering the same thing I am. “Where are you?”

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