I'm here today to tell you how I met your....erm. Hang on, I'm getting ahead of myself here.
A funny thing happened at the theatre on Friday. And I'm not talking about the show.
Although that was very funny. A brief diversion from the diversion here. A group of us, following exhortations from various sources, went to see the 39 Steps at the Marlowe Theatre on Friday.It was magnificent. 4 actors (ish) play 139 roles in a play which lasts about 2 hours, including an interval and tells a surprisingly faithful account of the original novel, peppered with laugh out loud humour, and all out assault on the 4th wall and incredible creativity and commitment. Go and see it. I loved it. And I really, really, want to do it.
Once I've got the current show out of the way that it is. Yes, to the few of you curious, the auditions went very well. I now have a cast, though they don't know it yet, so the blog about the auditions and casting will appear later.
So, apart from the show, a funny thing happened at the theatre. I fell in love. Again. For an hour and a half.
I'm wary in writing this that I might be being too emotionally honest again. I've been reliably informed that my blithe willingness to discuss my feelings, acknowledge critical failings and my inner crazy, whilst a probably great characteristic, is intimidating. I see the logic, though I do baulk at the word intimidating. It has been used to describe me more often than I am comfortable with. Made all the more laughable by the fact that a) I am generally more intimidated than intimidating, and b) I'm really the least intimidating person you are ever likely to meet.
So, to be clear, I am aware that I wasn't in love. I was besotted, swept along on the romance of a moment. I know love. I've felt it. And lost it. This isn't it. But you see, here's the thing....
My name is RV, and I'm a hopeless romantic.
And, falling in love (easier than writing falling in besot, if that's even a thing, so please excuse the contrivance) for even the briefest of periods, is part of this. I am a great believer in big gestures, narrative sweeps, the size and scale and joy of the universe. I get taken up and swept along in the moment. It damages my critical faculties, as I can forgive the sweeping influence almost anything, and see passed flaws. I have already waxed lyrical about the power an empty theatre or going to a film and show has over me. I commented after the show that every theatre show I have been to since about the age of 12 has resulted in me becoming fascinated with one of the female members of the cast, productions with friends or which I am performing in aside, and that is true.
I know what it is - it's the romance of the moment. The heightened reality of the stage, the atmosphere, the characters, the energy a person has to put into a performance, the play of the light, the fact that, simply, I am being required by everything in the theatre to pay attention to this person. And then I see them.
Okay, pause for a second here. I'm aware this could be coming off as stalker-y. Or, disparaging to whatever poor soul has the joy of being my 'other half' at the time I go to that show.... That isn't how it works at all.
For a start, it is not sexual, or real, in any way. I sometimes dismiss it as such to simplify it when talking with people, leading to a perhaps not particularly tasteful (though always amusing) line in humour which tends to include me loitering around the stage door and kidnapping them. But I hope my friends get that this isn't what it is. I suspect they would not be my friends if even for a second they thought it was this way.
No, what this is is being in love with the idea of someone. The story they are part of, the vulnerability they have to show to perform on stage and the confidence to perform. They become my 'in' to the reality of the play, my sympathetic character, and the one you want to root for.
Anyway, this led me to ponder the meaning of 'hopeless romantic'. It has become used as a term of excuse and abuse these days. People are dismissed as hopeless romantics if they have no grasp of the reality of the situation. Or, individuals rather shamefacedly describe themselves as 'hopelessly romantic' to excuse some naive or ridiculous act.
We have rather become obsessed with the 'hopeless', in hopeless romantic, and taken it out of context to mean, beyond or without hope.And we are using romantic in the sense of romanticising, or fictionalising. Certainly it indicates a lack of interaction with reality, and so it isn't a massive leap to go from 'hopeless romantic' to gormless idiot. And let's be right, my own tendency to get carried away with ideas, and 'fall in love' at the drop of a hat, would seem to back this up.
Our contradictory relationship with 'hopeless romanticism' is best summed up by this quote:
For me, this is a good thing. To love, completely, desperately, is the very essence of love. But Salinger was a bit of a cynical soul I gather, and there is an awareness to this quote. Does this make the person who loves 'desperate'?
Look, I understand the cynicism. I alternate most of the time between cynical and blindingly optimistic. A more 'realistic'attitude is a great protection against the vicious capriciousness of the universe. But I'll never give it up. Hopeless romantics to me have such a view of the universe that resonates with me, and my belief in the big and the small and despair about the medium and mediocre.
I mean, after all, one of my favourite tv characters is hopeless romantics, in both senses of the words:
It is also, I hope, one of the reasons that I have remained single since my latest main relationship. I am not equipped, either in physical appearance, or temperament, to be cynical about relationships, or basic. There are undeniably times where I wish I was. And maybe I am, just not had the chance to be- my hopeless romance gets in the way.
I'm not saying that being a hopeless romantic means that you are always only looking for the one big thing. But, it does lead to you to commit more completely during any relationship - friendship, romance, family. Intimacy is easier, and craved. Sure, you can over commit, an abandon critical faculties, and the end of such relationships is harder. but it is worth it.
I started this by talking about 'falling in love', before swiftly acknowledging that I knew this was the wrong phrase. But here's the thing. For a hopeless romantic, you can be besotted, especially briefly. But when that becomes more 'real', then the 'fancying' is deeper, less basic. Don't get me wrong, you need to be attracted to the person, but attraction is a greater commitment for a hopeless romantic than for many.
If, like me, you are a socially dysfunctional hopeless romantic, the attraction may not even be obvious, or assumed to be passive, as we do not have the toolkit to convey it, or act on it.
And love? Love, for a hopeless romantic, is instantly life changing, and if lost, becomes so big. But worth the risk of that loss.
I contend that we all have it within us to be hopeless romantics. But, most of us find the person who deserves that first, and then become it about them. I suppose that's a good thing, really.
But there are a few people who are hopeless romantics in the same way as they are oxygen breathers. These silly, giddy, fools get swept away by the person the other side of the room, or on stage. They crave intimacy, and will share everything in their heart. When they find a person who they actually fall in love with, it doesn't surprise them, it feels natural, deep, and true. And whilst they can never claim not to have moments of getting besotted for half an hour, love for a hopeless romantic is something which has to be killed rather than dies.
There's honestly no point to this post. No pithy summary, no real message, just musings.
Hopeless romantics, probably fairly, are seen are silly, child-like souls, who deal with the world on too simple a level and are too emotionally open, leaving them vulnerable.
I wish there were, and hope there are, more of us.
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