Romance

I’ve spent some time trying to define the concept of romance, and what makes someone a "romantic," and I wanted to update and revise my perspective on the matter. The problem, I’ve found, is that romantic things are, by nature, relative to the beholder…as the definition of romance, when boiled down, is simply a marriage of the seemingly much more ambiguous concepts of love and art. Strange, as one usually has an easier time defining romance than the two things that combine to create it, or so they think. The fact of the matter is that while the true definition of romance is utterly relative and subjective, another definition of romance prevails, a false one perhaps, but one that can make sense on a surprisingly basic level, while being utterly absurd on the more common and false understanding of the word.

The most abused misrepresentation of romance is by women. The word they are actually looking for is irony, as the romance of the novella, when a strong simple minded brute takes time to buy a woman flowers and dress up nicely, has little to do with love and art, and more to do with pleasant surprise, the inversion of the expected, and simple courtship procedures that he knows are effective. The motives are irrelevant to women, as motive is the act of looking backwards, and women are only ever concerned with the future, or rather the future that the present paints for them. They don’t understand that the fundamental aspect of what they call romance is exactly the same as what they (only correctly this time) call humor. So the practical chicken and egg question on the matter is; do women look for intelligent men who make them laugh because they have a better chance of getting "romance," or do women look for intelligent "romantic" men because they have a better chance of making them laugh? Both are simple exercises in irony, with the common ground that they are done just for the woman, and no one else. Selfish creatures, them.

I’d like to define romance as I see it, while I’m here, beginning with it’s root factions; love and art. While this is unusual of me, I confess that I acknowledge that this is simply a relative view on the matter, and the overall concept is…*deep swallow*….open to interpretation. Love, I think, we can take for granted as far as meaning goes; a grossly potent affection for one person in particular, who renders the company and input of all others utterly worthless by comparison; it is blind, impartial, and overpowering, rendering the bearer as helpless to it as a heroin junkie to the needle. Art, as I see it, is any act of original or unique creation; real, honest, unashamed, unafraid, and uncompromised by anything. I see art as an act of defiance in the face of anarchy, and as an action. My biggest complaint in regards to other people’s art is that it more often than not lacks balls and doesn’t do the artist justice as far as expressing them wholly and honestly. For this reason I think acts of romance, by definition, must also have balls, and be true to the individual performing them. This is why I do not consider empty promises of happily-ever-afters to be in any way romantic, as their motives are warped– they don’t mean them in a stand-alone sense, but rather simply m them to court favor. Despite the fact that it’s a win win, as women will still eat them up like chocolate dicks at a bachelorette party, I consider these acts of "romance" to be complete and utter bullshit. Only words that are backed by conviction and action are allowed to have traces of romance in them, but even still it is the action that is vastly more important, as it is the only way to truly convey conviction. Why is the story of Romeo and Juliet so romantic? It’s not because he sang her songs of praise from below her balcony, but because the motherfucker killed himself when he discovered that he would have to live the rest of his life without her, and then she went and did the same when she woke up, sealing the mutually reciprocated circle of honest love with solid action perfectly. So now that I’ve thought about it, forget what I said about "relative" definitions of romance. I’m afraid there’s only one, and it’s mine. Like it or leave it.