As I slumped my way through the weekend, working my fingers to the bone (literally) putting up fences, I couldn't help but be unhappy. Not because I was putting up fence in 100+ temperatures. Not because I had scratch after scratch and chigger after chigger (darn itchy little bugs.)
It's more because I wonder how unrealistic expectations of relationships in the adult world are.
After recently being hurt (again) and betrayed (again,) instead of going the usual I-curse-the-male-species-route, I decided to take a look at the bigger picture.
I can't tell you how many hours, even in the last month, much less in my life, that I have spent reading romance novels and watching chick flicks. Yeah they make you feel good. Yeah there's nothing sweeter than books like The Notebook or a good Nora Roberts to make you smile. However, they are unrealistic. It's been said, "Art portrays life." Portrays. Gives a picture. Not tells it like it is.
Reality of the situation is that most men, however wonderful and terrific, aren't romantic. At least not the way it is pictured in movies and books. All throughout my life I can remember watching for my grandpa to pick the first rose in our garden at home and give it my grandma.
Yep very sweet. Yep pretty darn romantic. Yep, pretty much the only romantic as in romance novel thing he did each year. He didn't bring her flowers every week, or hire a hot air balloon for a special date or propose to her at a giant stadium ... they were just happy being together.
I've heard it said, "I want best friends with wedding rings." That's what I want. Screw all the pink and red fake candy hearts crap ... I want someone who is going to be my best friend for all time and if I can't have that, I don't want any of it.
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