Rant Fever 3.0

Granted, opportunities for sweeping romantic gestures don’t often present themselves. Even the real life Hugh Grant isn’t nearly as suave and charming as the movie Hugh Grant.  But when there are serious cracks in a relationship, sitting and watching a romantic movie is only going to turn those cracks into gaping holes.  

To be honest, I just thought this was something I’d have to get over.  I knew that I would never wake to the sound of pebbles clinking against my window.  I’d never find Romeo climbing up my balcony, or ride off into the sunset with Prince Charming.

But there was something I never thought of before.  Consider this scene from one of my favorite romantic movies, The Mirror Has Two faces.  Granted, the ending is cheesy, over the top, and as likely to happen as Superman stopping by to take me for a quick flight over the city. But there’s a lesson to be learned here.  At the beginning of the film, Streisand’s character states that, unlike in the movies, we don’t hear a symphony every time we kiss.  Yet, at that final moment, someone just happens to be playing Puccini out their window.  Yes, it was dumb luck. But even without the song, the moment was still pretty darn epic.

The great romantic moments in life aren’t always planned, they usually just happen. Sometimes, the subtlety of a gesture is what makes it truly genuine, and taking advantage of certain circumstances (the night, the rain, the music from a window) can turn something small into something grand. The best part is, the memories then build into a wonderful montage that rivals anything Hollywood might throw at us. And since the movie romance doesn’t go far beyond 90 minutes, the gestures we see on the screen can only ever happen once for these characters. In real life, the good moments get to be replayed, just like the little inside jokes you accumulate together.

I knew he was different the first time I watched a romantic movie without him.  Where in the past I might have thought to myself “gosh, why can’t he do romantic crap like that for me?” I’d instead find myself thinking, “that’s just like that one thing he does.”  I didn’t find myself longing for some other prince. I instead found myself thinking how much the prince in the movie reminds me of the prince in my life. 

The book club was comprised entirely, and I do mean en-TIRE-ly of glowing, thirty-something, stay-at-home moms, more than half of whom were pregnant, none of which with their first child.  For the first hour, the title of the book wasn’t even mentioned. Instead, I was subjected to the never-ending chatter of babies, childbirth, fertility options, alternate birthing methods, episiotomies (men, do yourself a favor and do NOT look up the definition if you don’t know it) and so on and so forth. My sister-in-law was mortified, and I kept thinking of all of the other things I could have been doing instead of reading the book or attending the club. 

The rest of the evening was equally awkward.  While these women could relate the book to life with their husbands, children, and houses, all I could do was theorize and speculate.  I didn’t belong in their world, and I’m not saying it as though I’m sitting on the outside, longing to be let in. It’s more like, walking in on a Don Henley fan club meeting. I can see the appeal, but don’t share the enthusiasm, and my presence feels more like trespassing than anything else. 

Here’s the thing.  I’ve always thought that one day I’d be a mother, and my natural ease around children tells me I’d be good at it.  I’ve always wanted them, and have even found someone that would make a good father (not to mention, some darn good looking babies to boot… but I digress).  However, I find myself in a situation that seems to be unique amongst LDS families.

He and I have discussed our future, and considering our circumstances together, I’ve come to the realization that children probably aren’t in it.  Not now, not five years from now, not even ten.  It’s more of a decision really, and it’s actually one that I’m surprisingly okay with.  The problem is I’m starting to realize that I feel guilty about being okay with it. I feel guilty about coming to a decision that makes me wonder if I’m going against God’s plan. 

Sitting in that room with all of those women made me realize just how guilty I felt.  It also made me realize how many years of feeling out of place I’d be in for.  But in truth, while so many women were dreaming of lives with husbands, babies, and white-picket fences, all I was dreaming of was love.  That’s it, just love.  I’ve become amazed over this past year at the discoveries I’ve made since finding that love.  Primarily, the discovery that I could find extreme joy in even the simplest life.