Oh Mr Shakespeare, What Have You Done?

It’s my standard, (all too standard these days) Friday night, and the decision is Moulin Rouge or Shakespeare in Love. Due to the inevitability of me singing the Elephant Medley loudly and badly for the next few days we went with Shakespeare. I've always loved Shakespeare; it's the beauty of words combined with love, fantasy, comedy or tragedy that makes me feel all warm and misty-eyed. Midsummer Night’s Dream was always my favourite; it has fairies, ancient Greeks and a dog - what's not to love? But, Romeo and Juliet has that essence of passion and wonder that makes my throat constrict.
I couldn’t help thinking, ‘if only romance like this still existed.’ This thought confused me and ended up confusing me for days. It danced repeatedly round my head as I tried to make sense of it.

Romance is defined as a feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love, or 'love' when sentimental or idealised. When most people think of ‘romance’ it probably involves candles, sunsets, mighty gestures and gazing into each other's eyes. “Ick” some people would think of this and say instead that it’s the little, personal, unexpected moments that show a romantic side. But I can’t agree with either of these descriptions. Sunsets, I grant you, have a mystifying effect, but candles are more likely to cause a house fire, especially if you’re both so busy gazing you don’t notice. And the little moments? Surely that comes under thoughtfulness and the kindness you would expect in a tender relationship anyway? To me, romance means something bigger.

The problem is that so many of us think we know what romance is and therefore, expect it. In the modern day we’ve been brought up on rom-coms and have been led to believe that this is romance; it has it in the title. We see the men of our dreams run in slow motion through an airport and think yes, that is romantic, that is what I want. But isn’t that just sentimentality? We copy what we see in the films because that is what we have got used to believing is romantic. This actually completely defeats the point. We’re not supposed to know something is romantic, at least not at the time, otherwise where is the mystery and the excitement?

These days we are so much more practical about love. We have careers and irritating distance issues to think about, not to mention a much greater choice of partner than the Bennet sisters would have been blessed with. Now, if we meet someone we have the delightful option of analysing their texts, their Facebook page and a series of dates before we need even consider romance. Just look at the Amazon bestseller list for romance and see that it’s going under a variety of different names these days depending on what suits us. Perhaps it's just easier to type a reminder into our iPhones that we are due a romantic night out with our partner, and therefore believe we have everything sorted, than deal with the turbulence true romance is paired with.

If I think of examples of a true romantic story all of my examples come from classics. Shakespeare, who has us dying for love, Charlotte Bronte whose Jane Eyre and Rochester have hearts so entwined they hear each other’s cries across moors, and Jane Austen who would have us risk pneumonia to feel such passion. Can we write such romance in a modern age? Would the majority confuse it with cheesiness or foolishness? Find me a modern-day romance that is romantic and I will happily be proved wrong.

Romance doesn’t have to be a huge event but it should be something that sweeps you off your feet, that leaves you speechless and as though your heart will explode out of your chest. This could be by the smallest of gestures but it needs that intensity. My most romantic night, surprisingly enough, was hanging around London waiting to watch Batman at the IMAX at some ungodly hour. There was a sunset, there was a boy and there was the Millennium Bridge, water and London. By my own definition it shouldn’t have been romantic, it was exactly like a scene in a film, and yet it was romantic. Why? Because I totally didn’t see it coming. It’s the sudden rush of emotion that at the time feels like a glorious pressure that makes you smile endlessly and you look back at and realise it was something unusual. If I had planned it or even imagined it before hand it would never have felt so good.

Every relationship needs a level of romance, but think how exhausting it would be to live like that all the time. A relationship should be fuelled by love, by the little things, the thoughtful things and the kind things that you want and need for and from each other. But romance should be that mighty gust of wind that sweeps in now and again and reminds you of everything that is powerful in what you have. For that to work it has to be unexpected.

To make something romantic is to make it a mystery.

Fate And His Gang

Why is it, when you’ve noticed something annoys you it suddenly appears everywhere? This has happened with me and a particular phrase - "just wait and see what happens." It seems to have an uninvited and unsympathetic hold over my life and other people’s mouths at the moment. I should apologise in advance as if this phrase can be applied to anything in your life you will start to notice it creep in and nest in all conversations from now on.

I'm a planner; I like to know what I'm doing and if it's going to work. This doesn't seem a totally unrealistic ideal for life does it? Just hanging about and seeing what life throws at you seems an almost dangerous proposition if anything, it’s leaving an awful lot of responsibility up to the gods of Fate if you ask me. And if Sod is one of them, he and his law already don’t like me.

It’s an irritating fact of life that occasionally scenarios occur where our wonderful intellect and decision-making abilities are as useful as a chocolate teapot. You want to stick your tongue out at Fate and his gang and make things happen your way but you can’t. Some (horrible) times you can’t make decisions yet and you actually do have to wait for Time and Fate to have their fun until things work themselves out a bit. This is the part I don’t like. It’s not about being impatient, because I can deal with queues. I even enjoy the excitement of waiting for something to happen...as long as you know something is going to. And there’s the rub. That is what makes me fluster and bustle and want to box people’s ears, with “wait and see what happens” you don’t know what, if anything, is going to happen! 

I should possible explain some context here and why I am being plagued with this satanic phrase. Typically, and yet not typically at the same time, it’s to do with a boy. Yes Boy, I’m talking about you, who decided in his infinite wisdom that moving to Denmark would be a great idea (for reasons to do with architecture I believe, not because I’m so horrible that leaving the country is the only option...I hope). Now we both worked in an office which is effectively a microcosm of procrastination and gossip so since his emotional departure I, who still live in this bubble for three more weeks, have been inundated with “Are you Ok?s” and “What’s going to happen now?s”. These questions, I have noticed are actually completely pointless because really, people end up answering themselves. 

For example: 

Colleague (usually with sympathetic head tilt): “Are you OK?”

Me (feigning a sudden interest in whatever Olympic sport is currently being shown on the TV - it turns out to be discus throwing): “Yes, fine thanks.”

Colleague (ignoring the TV completely and staring at my eyes to see if I’ll cry): “What’s going to happen now then, with you two?”

Me (adding distracting gesticulations supposedly in my anger at the referee’s decision) “I don’t know really.”

Colleague (moving their chair in front of the TV): “Oh, so might you go and see him?”

Me (trying to subtly shuffle my chair away without taking my eyes off the flying discus): “I don’t know, we’ll have to...wait and see what happens,” (knuckles start to contract and turn white at this utterance.

Colleague (patting my tense rock of a hand) “I see.”

Me (in an odd, strained, squeaky voice that I hope comes across as excitement about the distance cleared by the cheering discus thrower and not due to the volcano brewing in my head) “What would you do?”

Colleague (staring wistfully out to the car park) “I don’t know, I guess you have to think about it, weigh up your options, see how you feel and...... WAIT AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS....I didn’t know you liked discus so much?”

They probably didn’t actually shout that bit but that’s how it echoes in my head. 

I know it’s not anyone’s fault and people are trying to be supportive etc and that there really isn’t anything else to say. Though one person did try to be ‘cruel to be kind’ and tell me his version of what actually was going to happen and his body can now be found floating down the Thames. Even if I do hate the phrase with a unnecessarily violent passion, hearing the ‘truth’ is even worse and to get the answers I want to hear would involve someone having impressive psychic powers. Unfortunately, in a scenario where control really does lie with Time and Fate, as much as it makes me want to implode, explode or simply sleep until it’s over, the only option may be to take a deep breath and...(dare I type it again)...wait and see what happens.