Romeo and Juliet were two fictional, hormonal, rebellious and disobedient children that died in a double suicide. Shakespeare writes beautifully of their love for one another, and it is, without a doubt, a story for the ages of romanticized love. I just think it’s a pretty bad example of true love.
I don’t recall reading anything about Romeo waiting until he was old enough to support his intended. He didn’t take two jobs, build himself a nest egg, and ready a nice home for the girl. As far as she is concerned, I can’t find anything in the story that says she was prepared to help him build that life and home. I see nothing in the story that shows me “true love” as I understand it.
Romance ain’t love, no matter what the poet says. Love is a different thing, entirely. It’s built with the sweat of the brow by both parties. It takes long days, and hard nights. The shared bathrooms try your patience. The cleaning, washing dishes, mowing the lawn and paying the rent and the light bill strengthens the bonds. Hearing the snoring and many other bodily functions tries one’s sanity, much less love. Yes, love is more real than moaning about it on a balcony.
You bring to the table a whole bunch of faults. The other person has their own bag of issues as well. You spread them out, accept them, and share them. You give all of yourself to the effort, and you take what is given and you love them.
As time goes on, you share everything life has to offer or throw at you. Bills. Aches. Pains. Victories. Defeats. Children. Grandchildren. It gets to the point that your faults and their issues are all the same. You know them. You accept them. You love them.
Romance becomes other things. Things like paying attention. Listening. Doing things without being asked to. A hug. A kiss. A touch to the face. Every glance met is understood without words. Every goodnight, goodbye and “I love you” is with the knowledge that they will be there for you, and that they want the best for you, and that they mean it.
When you can put their need above yours without another thought; when holding their hand, or giving them a hug, holds as much love as the act of sex; when being with them at the end of the day is your idea of heaven, then you’re a “romantic” just like me. I’d much rather have that than how Romeo and Juliet ended. Yup. That was messed up.
Now go do the romantic thing for your better half, this Valentine’s Day. At least give em a hug. Or even scratch their back. Now THAT’S love.
God bless Y’all.
Rolling Stones 