Hopeless Romantic

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• September 29, 2014

A blog about love?  Oh boy… here we go…

I’ve just attended another cousins wedding, and I’m happy to witness yet another two terrific people who make a great couple.

For those who know me, they know my stark views against marriage.  This is a bit odd, as I behave like a child of divorced parents, when my parents actually have one of the best marriages I’ve ever seen.

The problem with our society (especially woman, but true for many dudes too), is they see this version of love on television and the movies… Every so often, you come across a couple that has this great friendship, and love for one another that validates the “fairytale.”  It’s not all fiction.  It exists.

Here’s where it gets tricky.  Most people think they deserve that version of love.  But there’s a catch.  You’re not entitled to it.  Most people will never have it, because most people are kind of awful.

Two weeks ago, at the bachelorette party for the wedding, I was totally hammered at the bar.  I had been whipping out my sweet dance moves all night, and I stepped outside for some air, where I discovered another bar, where then I ordered another drink (totally unnecessary, by the way).  There was a young man at there, and our exchange went something like this (exact words not guaranteed, I said was hammered):

“Hey, are you part of that bachelorette party.”

“Yeah, Namaste bitches!”

“I’m here on my bachelor party.”

“Congrats! Cheers!”

“She’s seven years older than me.”

“What?”

“She’s seven years older than me.  Do you think that’s weird.”

“Um… no.  I always usually date older guys.”

“Yah, but you’re a girl.  Do you think that one day she’s gonna wake up and think I’m too young for her?”

“What?”

“What if one day she realizes we don’t have a lot in common.”

“Dude, I think you should be discussing this with her and not some random drunk chick you just met.”

See?  I’m such a good person.  Imparting wisdom on drunk, insecure strangers.  This happens to me quite frequently.  Strangers I’ve just met, venting about their problems.  I don’t know why.  It’s my face, I guess.  If they saw my soul, they would not do this.  My face…

my soul…

From only this very short conversion, I could tell immediately this couple is doomed.  It was obvious (though it isn’t always).  They think they deserve a special love.  They think they deserve what my cousin has with her new husband.  They don’t.  They don’t deserve it.

I would say that 75% of couples are doomed for separation, or will stick it out, unhappily with each other.  I guess for some, being miserable in a relationship is better than being miserable alone. But therein lies the problem.  If you’re a prick, your relationships are going to be shitty.  Period.  End of story.  That’s why 75% of couples are the worst, because 75% of people are just the worst (also, I’m being generous here, I actually believe the percentage is higher).

Me, I seldom talk about my romantic (I’m not sure ‘romantic’ is the right word here) life.  I don’t like to kiss and tell.  Mostly, because I’m horribly destructive in relationships.  Something about being vulnerable with someone brings out the very worst in me.  If I told you about my flings this year, you would be both a little troubled, and turned on, probably.  I seem to have deep seeded commitment problems.  I’m not going to get into it now.  At the very least, I am self aware of my selfishness.  I enjoy being alone, more than most.  I like being able to do whatever I want to do.  I like breaking plans.  I like the freedom.  I like waking up alone, in my tempurpedic bed, in my studio apartment.  I’m shallow.  And most of all, I’m controlling.  I love being alone so much, that I’m starting to believe it might be impossible for me have a long-term relationship, ever.  Most people find this sad, but honest; I’m okay with it.

This is not to say that when I see the rare couples that are so great together, that I wish I had that.  Because sometimes, I do.  But I know I’m not entitled to it.  I know I would have to stop being a dick so much. I’m narcissistic, and all I care about is feeding my id, and my comedy career.  I’m not a terrible person, but I’m not open and loving either.  When I see really happy couples, I analyze them individually, then I realize that as individuals they are really good people.

Most people are looking after number one.  They constantly think about themselves.  But unlike me, they are not honest with their selfishness.  They expect others to love them unconditionally, and take time to understand them, when they do not do that themselves.  They are totally unaware of what assholes they are.

I know I sound like a jaded 45 year-old who’s been through two horrible divorces.  Jaded, maybe, but not bitter.  The nuclear family, with a white picket fence in the suburbs has no appeal to me.  I’d go mad.  The bitter men and women are the ones who think the opposite sex is perpetually the problem, and not themselves.

If relationships are a problem for you, and unlike me, you want to have someone to hold when you sleep, you should learn to be alone.  Work on being a better human.  Stop looking outward and look inward (I’m deep right now).

People are often shocked I’m single because I’m “pretty.”  This is so strange to me.  Like the good-looking people of the world are somehow more privileged when it comes to love.  Wrong.  So fucking wrong.  It just goes to prove exactly what I’m trying to say… Other people think I’m entitled to this grand romance because I’m cute.  Don’t you see how mad that is?  The surface is not everything.  In fact, it’s nothing.  It’s so stupid, honestly, it makes me laugh a little.

My family would say I have not yet met “the one.”   Another notion I scoff at.  In order for me to have a successful relationship, I would have to change.  It’s simple, and complicated all in one.  People don’t change very often.  I think about my life, and the times where I changed and/or grew as a person.  Within those moments, I lost something I hated about myself, but not without the cost of losing something I also loved about myself.  Because that’s the price of change.  That’s what they don’t tell you.

Maybe there is no hope for an everlasting romance in my life.  Or maybe I’m the true definition of a hopeless romantic.  I don’t sit around, singing Disney songs, thinking someone is going to give my life meaning (well… actually I do sit around singing Disney songs, but just because I like them).  I appreciate a devoted couple, like my parents, and smile knowing that kind of love exists.  But then I go home, alone, to my studio apartment, and I hear my neighbor arguing with her boyfriend (again), and I smile knowing that I will never be one of those people, caught in a toxic relationship, just because I’m too frightened to be alone.