every letter is a love letter: on romance pt. infinity
There is an essay about romance that I have been writing, editing and gestating for two years and it has been that one piece of writing that prevents me from sharing all of my other writing. I think to myself, "If I just post this one post, then I can get on with my life and my writing practice!" Has that ever happened to you? It feels like a very particular form of procrastination.
I am currently in a massive values overhaul in regards to romance with other human beings (as a lifelong romantic who usually enjoys engaging romantically with other human beings) and so the essay is either something that will occur in volumes as I continue to evolve or something that will unfold in a medium that can hold the storytelling with clarity and color.
I ended my second long-term relationship of four years in February of 2025 and as previously mentioned, usually after break-ups I will take 3-6 months to recover and then move on. Remember that meme with Michael Scott from the Valentine's Day episode of "The Office?" He's looking for a new girlfriend and gets the contact information for Pam's landlady and he goes, "No question about it, I am ready to get hurt again." That has been my guiding light for over 20 years.
Romantics tend to have elastic hearts and generous capacities. They understand the sticky risk of being a lover; experiencing the gifts of passion, beauty, witnessing, world-building and melding with another is at some point going to cost a pound of pulsing flesh (grief). This is not necessarily because of break-ups either. I think it's because romance is ineffable, gauzy and slippery. It can be momentarily lived in, noticed, mutually felt or experienced in delusion, but people are mutable and ever-changing. To love, is to adapt to these changes and grow alongside them- whether you understand them or not. Romance can be quite fair-weather in this regard (I believe this is a part of why Venus is in detriment in the signs that don't mind being uncomfortable).
This year, I hit my capacity. My elasticity snapped... or more like, it has become quite worn and loose. I'm finding it hard to hold romance with other people.
For one, I'm experiencing a Saturn-Venus opposition. Romantic feelings with others feel dissolved and difficult to internally access. I crave introspection, being realistic with other people and approach my feelings with a lot more practicality than usual. I want to see others for who they are and for what they show me, not what they say or what I think is possible.
For two, I'm approaching my mid-30's and heartbreak feels different here. It does not feel like me vs. them or even about another person at all. I'm doing extensive relationship inventories and noticing some patterns on my end. I'm questioning the scripts I've inherited about relationships with other people. Therapy taught me about "parts work" and I'm constantly in conversation with all my pieces, recognizing the way they tug on my body when I start to compartmentalize my emotions.
For three, I'm realizing that falling in love is plain ol' luck! This one is actually a huge relief. I soften my shoulders and unclench my jaw when I realize that I do not need to work or be in pursuit for love. My good friend Roman often says, "Sharon, it's a numbers game." But I'm starting to believe it's just a matter of being at the right place at the right time with someone you feel safe with. Taking a different route to the coffee shop and bumping into a friend of a friend you think is cute? Begrudgingly going to a party and being introduced to someone you'll unknowingly build a life with? IG messaging with someone and then going on a date 3 years later? Walking with a friend and noticing how the sun glimmers in their eyes and their lips move soft when they're saying something kind? There is no telling the time or the place, the when or the how. Dating apps have tried to net us all into the same place to expedite this, but sometimes that's why swiping feels like eating junk food.
As I navigate the changing waters of my romance values, I cannot shake that I am still a romantic! While the orientation I have to others is shifting and currently feels protective and scared, moving slow with myself and others has opened spaciousness to new experiences and opportunities to be brave and still lead with my heart.
This year I have confessed crushes on kind (and tbh.. very hot) friends who offer me presence, patience, affection and grace without the act of escalation. It has taught me to prioritize friendship-building while I take care of myself so as to not use others as a distraction from my grief, but build relationships where I can show up as myself and not labor for care. I think a slow burn is romantic. I think people who make my child-self feel alive is romantic. I think witnessing the same trees move through the seasons and loving them in both their blooms and bare branches is romantic. I think fighting fervently for yourself but also for others is deeply sexy and romantic. I think talking on the phone for hours and hours is romantic. I think being shy around someone you like and admitting it is romantic. I think being proud and effusive with someone you like is romantic. I think noticing something as small as dew on a flower is romantic. I think you reading this and maybe feeling it tug on your own elastic heart is a little romantic, too.
Occasionally all yours, Sharon