THE enduring passion of young Romeo and Juliet has always been the template for lovers. Supposedly. And erroneously.
There’s been a huge buzz in the city for some time now, and only those living under a rock and household wildlife like roaches and lizards are totally oblivious to it. Just mention the names of the protagonists and the whole story tumbles out from the mouths of both young and old. One is a member of media royalty and the other is on reflected glory mode, so to speak. The story’s juiciness is already waning, but there are still holdouts, squeezing the last bits of gossip to prolong the narrative. Gossip spices up an otherwise boring life, and nothing is as exciting as living vicariously!
It was to have been a fairy tale, from the frenzy of interminable items found on social media. Boy meets girl, boy falls head over heels for girl, girl responds accordingly to amorous boy, and a few weeks on, pronouncements of loving each other till kingdom come are being set in stone (No longer) breaking news: It’s not going to happen!
Turns out boy will not change, or make a sacrifice, or give up his love for fun for a lifetime of living in a bubble to care for ailing girl, who has to be protected from known and unknown elements, particularly in this time of the pandemic. His “contract” of loving her did not involve restrictions to the life to which he is accustomed; there is no commitment or patience for her needs, no bedside care on the horizon, or whatever else it took to spell out his promise of the love he thought he had for her.
Lovers often mistake loving to involve only touching and kissing and lusting and whatever else the human flesh craves. In the haze of passion, love can also be a mere fever that cools and forgets the pleasures of the flesh it enjoyed a minute back, a momentary diversion, a respite from the ordinariness of living. it’s a fantasy that crumbles in a moment’s irritation or sudden disillusionment. In their ardor, lovers perceive they’ve found an angel incarnate in their midst, a soulmate, the ideal love they’ve been blindly looking for in a haystack. Then they discover belatedly that it’s truly just another human being, with annoying frailties to boot!
These lovers are not teenage virgin-daters, who are just now discovering the tingles of passion. They’re coming in with open eyes. One would think they’ve had enough battle scars from previous heartaches, are sufficiently experienced in the ABC of relationships, and k n o w the drill from “hello” to make what ensues to succeed. Reading the start and finish of their story, one may imagine that the two were just trying each other on for size, considering the shortness of their pledged “forever” – and, finding the fit lousy, trashed the whole experience in the bin, with nary a pang of regret.
Real love needs maturity. To a man in love, the letter “I” in the alphabet dissipates like smoke, and the word “team” takes root. He loses his dear self and selfishness to the person he vowed to care for. It seems this horse was led to water willingly, but now changed its mind to drink one more drop.
Had Romeo and Juliet lived a full life, there’d be no fairy tale to savor all these centuries. Harsh reality would have rudely awakened them as well.
(Need advice from Emily? You may send your letters to emarcelo629@gmail.com. My response to the issues at hand will be printed in the order they are received. EM)