I Am And Will Always Be A Hopeless Romantic
1:06 PM Posted In Alex Turner , alexa chung , chic-lits , Girl About Town , Harriet Evans , hopeless romantic , The Independence Edit This 2 Comments »A happy year of the ox to everybody! Hope your holidays were as nice and lovely as mine was... well, with the exception of last night's festivities when I was reluctantly absent as I was medicated (I had a cold) and thus was in deep slumber.
I wake up this morning feeling loads better, thank God, and I discover a friend, whom I haven't seen for months, lying on our couch and watching tv. She has come back to LA from the Bay Area following what can only be described as a catastrophic marriage to a psychotic middle-aged gambler. Turns out she has finally left his penniless ass for good. Not a bad time for making a brand new start.
A couple of cups of coffee (it was too early for the alcoholic goodies I have leftover from my birthday), several stogs, and all horrendous details of the said marriage later; she insists that she is, in fact, done with men and with love forever and is going to direct all her energy to her career. I could not, for the life of me, offer words of aggreement and support to her lunatic decision.
See, I have done quite a lot of reading lately. I have just consumed more literature (in the loosest sense of the word) in a month than I had in the ten months prior. This, I admit, includes Alexa Chung's Girl About Town column in The Independent. It has become a guilty pleasure of mine not because I am enjoying her boring and what-seems-to-be-endless pointless ramblings, which she's trying to pass off as better than crappy writing, but because I am rejoycing in the fact that London's 'It-Girl', the girl who has captured the heart of Alex Turner, could possibly be nothing more than a pretentious, self-absorbed girl with mediocre intelligence. I mean, if the girl was writing a personal blog it would probably have been fine but she is supposed to be a columnist for The Independent, for sobbing out loud.
Anyways, having just finished reading three chic-lits in two consecutive days (a direct result of finding out that the holidays still get a bit lonely when you are single and dateless even if you are surrounded by friends and family), I have finally admitted to myself that I am and will always be a hopeless romantic despite all the disappointments the fates have thrown at me in the love department.
I think it was Harriet Evans and her delightful novel, A Hopeless Romantic, that finally convinced me that I wasn't such a pragmatist after all. It is very unnerving how an author, who lived hundreds of miles away and whom I have never met, could create a character that is a more or less a perfect embodiment of me. I mean, look, she is no Jane Austen but she has restored my faith in finding the right man for me and finally falling in love the way the heroines do in the novels.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not a fool to think that I’d meet a handsome marquis or an irresistible vampire who seems to have developed a soul and live happily ever after. I am reasonable enough to know that that stuff only happens in novels (or maybe to a selected, blessed few). I am, after all, just a regular girl. But I do hope of something extraordinary to happen to me in the future and of meeting “The One” for me (images of walks in the beach, coffee shop conversations about books and music, romantic backpacking in Europe and the Caribbean, and quiet times at home, watching tv come to mind) and have my own version of ever after.
I wake up this morning feeling loads better, thank God, and I discover a friend, whom I haven't seen for months, lying on our couch and watching tv. She has come back to LA from the Bay Area following what can only be described as a catastrophic marriage to a psychotic middle-aged gambler. Turns out she has finally left his penniless ass for good. Not a bad time for making a brand new start.
A couple of cups of coffee (it was too early for the alcoholic goodies I have leftover from my birthday), several stogs, and all horrendous details of the said marriage later; she insists that she is, in fact, done with men and with love forever and is going to direct all her energy to her career. I could not, for the life of me, offer words of aggreement and support to her lunatic decision.
See, I have done quite a lot of reading lately. I have just consumed more literature (in the loosest sense of the word) in a month than I had in the ten months prior. This, I admit, includes Alexa Chung's Girl About Town column in The Independent. It has become a guilty pleasure of mine not because I am enjoying her boring and what-seems-to-be-endless pointless ramblings, which she's trying to pass off as better than crappy writing, but because I am rejoycing in the fact that London's 'It-Girl', the girl who has captured the heart of Alex Turner, could possibly be nothing more than a pretentious, self-absorbed girl with mediocre intelligence. I mean, if the girl was writing a personal blog it would probably have been fine but she is supposed to be a columnist for The Independent, for sobbing out loud.
Anyways, having just finished reading three chic-lits in two consecutive days (a direct result of finding out that the holidays still get a bit lonely when you are single and dateless even if you are surrounded by friends and family), I have finally admitted to myself that I am and will always be a hopeless romantic despite all the disappointments the fates have thrown at me in the love department.
I think it was Harriet Evans and her delightful novel, A Hopeless Romantic, that finally convinced me that I wasn't such a pragmatist after all. It is very unnerving how an author, who lived hundreds of miles away and whom I have never met, could create a character that is a more or less a perfect embodiment of me. I mean, look, she is no Jane Austen but she has restored my faith in finding the right man for me and finally falling in love the way the heroines do in the novels.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not a fool to think that I’d meet a handsome marquis or an irresistible vampire who seems to have developed a soul and live happily ever after. I am reasonable enough to know that that stuff only happens in novels (or maybe to a selected, blessed few). I am, after all, just a regular girl. But I do hope of something extraordinary to happen to me in the future and of meeting “The One” for me (images of walks in the beach, coffee shop conversations about books and music, romantic backpacking in Europe and the Caribbean, and quiet times at home, watching tv come to mind) and have my own version of ever after.
2 comments:
its not easy deciding that youre better off single than settling for something that is less than what you hoped for... i wish sometimes that i wasnt too jaded or too pessimistic and have your kind of guts..but if you've been screwed over a few times or just had to many blah relationships you just dont expect or dare i say hope anymore...you just accept whats being handed over to you...sad right? pathetic.
hey send me an ebook of that will you... lemme see what its about...hehe
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