Ferry rides into the sunset. Holding hands and gazing at the stars. All the sappy stuff that never happens in real life, that's what I want. A single red rose.
I'm a bit of a sucker for love, and I've never really found a reason for it. I wouldn't say that any of my parents are classic romantics. My romanticism surprises me. I suppose you could say that while my outside surface is pessimistic, under the initial crunch there lies a big sappy gooey center of hearts and roses and sunsets. I believe in poetry and words and music. I think a classic tux is best, and a classic dress. Sometimes I wonder if my romantic side even belongs in this day and age. I think of clandestine messages passed by hand and think of how superior those methods were to our ability to text or email.
Romantics are a dying breed. We are being slowly weeded out by pop culture. I think about my ideal date and all I can ponder is how old fashioned I must seem, especially seeing as I was never a part of that old fashion.
All I can hope for then, is someone either as romantic as I am, in which case we would become a cesspool of gooey emotion, or someone willing to put up with my romantic tendencies.
I just don't know if they'll be lucky or annoyed.
Cheers,
-T.A.D.
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