Postcard on Yearning

It’s hard to be a romantic in a world that has gone rogue.

It’s hard to be a romantic in a world that has gone rogue.

Photo Credit: Pinterest

Some evenings, I sit by my window and sink into the hands of memory. I think about all the people I’ve loved in this lifetime. All the people I think have loved me. All the people who love me. I think about the first time I discovered an ocean of wonder in the eyes of a lover. I think about streetlights and roadside suya. I think about small favours and I think about faith. I think about the profound and the mundane.

This particular evening, I’m thinking about the lack of intensity in modern romantic relationships.

I read an article recently that lamented the lack of yearning in the modern dating pool. I chuckled, then I sighed. How sad. How true. How tragic that the world now expects us to love in opposites. If you love someone, don’t let them know just how much because, you know, it might get into their head. But isn’t that the whole point of love? That it gets into our heads, travels through our skulls, runs down our spines, and makes our toes curl with wonder. What’s the purpose of awe if it’s meant to be hoarded?

A friend told me recently that she was done with love. “Can mere interest suffice?” she asked. We laughed about it, but the question played on repeat in my mind all weekend. Should love really be this hard? Is romance going out of fashion? Can there be love without the expression of it? What happened to proper wooing? To burning for the one you love? To wanting to witness their life as you open yourself up fully to be witnessed in return?

And of course, I’m not saying we should discard individuality. I think a healthy sense of self is necessary in every relationship. It allows us to love and express without reducing the romantic bubble into some claustrophobic mess. It allows us to be part of someone else’s evolution without abandoning ours.

But if we crave love, we must value intimacy. And intimacy doesn’t happen by chance. It’s often a culmination of several expressions of care that sometimes look downright silly. We must take romance, and all the beautiful ways it manifests itself, seriously. We must create some room in our very busy lives to accommodate the interests of our affection. Because to love is to commit, and to commit is to express. That expression is romance.

So some evenings, I sit by my window and ponder these things. I wonder if I will ever find a love so deep-reaching that it can hold all of my eagerness and earnestness without faltering. I wonder if I will ever look at someone with eyes stained with wonder again and not have to wonder if they feel the same. I wonder if this is the part where we all settle for functionality, or if there’s still hope for those who still marvel at love.