Writers, poets, directors often paint pictures of ideal love. We want to believe that this is the case. One day a handsome prince will come and take us to a fairy kingdom. But romantic stories from books have little in common with real life.
Since childhood, I have loved romantic films and books. I grew up with idealistic ideas about love. Courteous men and charming women danced under the moonlight and dined by candlelight to live music. The men were princes who rode magnificent horses and rescued beautiful ladies. Sweet kisses, sexy dances, moments of tenderness, romantic acts — in my imagination, love was beautiful.
Then I grew up, got married and realized that love is not like that. Don’t misunderstand me. I love my husband. I think we have a great life. We are happy and still in love with each other, as at the moment we met at a drawing lesson in the seventh grade. We grew up and matured together. We have become a real team. I believe in love.
But despite all this, I do not believe that love is beautiful. True love is not like that at all. After five years of marriage, I realized that true love rarely looks perfect, like in the picture. There are moments with impeccable images: photos of exotic trips and romantic dinners that girls post on Instagram (an extremist organization banned in Russia). Sometimes we receive beautiful bouquets and study the starry sky with our beloved.
But such moments are rather an exception. All the rest of the time love is not beautiful
She doesn’t even come close to being beautiful. True love, which keeps marriages and life together, is not ideal and even ugly. This is a bundle of trials, problems and despair, an attempt by two people to row in the same direction, despite different points of view and beliefs.
This is the realization of reality: the wedding cake will not last long, the halo of the honeymoon and the splashes of champagne will quickly dissipate. In place of bliss comes real life, in place of spontaneity and romance — worldly concerns
True love is disgusting quarrels over relatives, money, and spilled soda in the refrigerator. This is to clean up the consequences of sewer clogging and vomiting on the carpet. Ignore the scattered socks and half-empty cups of coffee left all over the apartment.
Love is to dance in the kitchen, ignoring the mountains of dirty dishes in the sink and the smell of garbage that should have been taken out long ago, sobbing on his shoulder with streams of snot and leaking carcass.
Love is to support each other when life sends terrible trials and there is no strength to portray a smile
It’s when he remembers in the supermarket that you like the orange tick-tock, uploads your favorite song to iTunes. Love is to see each other turned inside out in the most difficult and impartial moments and despite this say: “I am there, I will always be with you.”
Love is not perfect hair and makeup, amazing flowers and romantic dinners every day. Love is not a picturesque walk through a field of daisies at sunset. Love is difficult, painful and scary. It consists of episodes that you will not show to others. Love is doubts, quarrels, disputes and difficult decisions.
Love is not beautiful, but this makes it one of the most complex and important phenomena. We follow her against the odds, walk on the edge and take risks. We accept the bad along with the good, because we are strongly attached to this person.
Wouldn’t trade hard, tough love for the perfect version of it. Even when we are hard and scared, we find a way to smile and see the beauty in the most difficult moments. This is the power of love.
About the Author: Lindsey Detweiler is a romance novelist.