It struck me suddenly how liberal I am with reading romance fan fictions while hesitating to pick up proper published novels of the same genre.
Fun fact: I only own one romance novel in my not insubstantial collection of book.
I'm not particularly embarrassed to say that it is a copy of "Twilight" by Stephanie Meyer, because I truly thought that it was well-written (granted, I was still in Primary school when I made that judgement). I never did get round to picking up its sequels, though, because it seems to me that all the reviews of all subsequent books in the series were in adamant consensus that Meyer had nothing fresh to add and was merely recycling ideas and phrases, and making things even more convoluted than I would have thought possible.
I suppose that one of the reasons I enjoy reading romance fan fictions is the fact that I knew the characters before they were thrust into any semblance of a relationship with each other.
I like for romance to be moulded to the characters, not the characters to be carved to fit whatever romantic notions the author decides to put in place. Similarly, I like adventures and turmoil and conflict to be shaped by the characters' unique mix of personality traits, and not have them cast to fit the plot.
Perhaps I find the idea of being introduced to new characters whose personality I have no grasp of to be repulsive. Perhaps it is the thought of delving into a trashy and cliched drama that is similarly repelling (all the blurbs I've read seem to revolve around the same thing: boy meets girl, girl is enamoured with beautiful boy, boy has unspeakable secrets, girl helps boy overcome them, read on to find out what happens next).
Whatever it is, I find I have no fondness for fumbling with character development throughout a romance story.
Because I am of the opinion that romance is not a "BANG-I-love-you" kind of thing. It is hardly love-at-first-sight, though I must admit that instant infatuation seems to be a probable happenstance. I like it to be slow-moving, to be thoughtful, to be deliberate. The idea of not having any control over yourself when you first find someone who appeals to you on a sexual level is relatively disturbing.
Of course, I myself cannot deny dreaming of fairytale romance. I mean, come on, wouldn't it be nice to know that there is a soul mate out there, and before you meet that person you can completely ignore the hardship behind courtship and seeking out that perfect someone?
I would really like it if there is someone out there tailored for me, whom I will know upon first sight (yes, typical sappy romance storyline, but the difference lies in the fact that THIS IS REALITY and you cannot expect any such things here) is the one I will forever dedicate myself to.
In this way, I guess I envy fan fiction characters. It all seems so clear that they were meant for each other, that they can be fully certain that this person is the right one for them, that whatever they do they will still be in possession of that enviable affection.
I find that real life deprives us of such surety.
Maybe life is short-changing us, maybe it's giving us a choice, but I really wouldn't mind if I were to be spared the agony of ploughing through a million, a billion faces to find someone whom I can live with for the rest of my life without tiring myself or my partner out.
Maybe I read fan fictions because, when I am reading, I find myself able to "live in a dream." It's nice to depart from reality every once in a while, truth be told. Refreshing, even.
Isn't it painful that every relationship that you will endure in reality has to be deliberate, a choice to love? Maybe this is why I want to see this sacrifice in romance fiction, to observe how this imperfect process can be made perfect and beautiful.
You can never know for certain that you will give up your life for this one person unless you were hanging above a roiling pit of molten rock with your loved one hanging on the other end of the rope, and to live is to swing yourself to safety, cut that rope when you are above ground, and let your loved one fall into that molten pit.
I would rather not experience that myself, but oh, what I would give for such a selfless love.
The thing, though, is that I'm not sure I can properly reciprocate that all-consuming an affection.
I have my reservations. What if I am hurt? What if my partner decides that I am unworthy? What if? What if? It is too easy to say "I love you," but too difficult to be prepared to lose everything to hear that phrase echoed back at you.
Well, my dear counterparts in fan-fiction-land seem to lack such hesitance. Bless them.
I don't think I can truthfully say that I have ever been in love with any living, breathing mortal. I love my parents, my siblings (yes, even my sister, despite the sometimes-venom that I vehemently project), my art, my friends, and (be warned, one obligatory religious example coming right up) my God, but can I every truly, sincerely say that I am in love with someone?
Being in love implies some sort of sexual attachment, which, really now, I am a little too premature for. But it is more than that, I think. It is an all-consuming river of affection that should never let up once it starts to flow, it is the unstoppable sensation of wanting to lay in "perfect" arms and never get up, it is something I read so often about but can't imagine ever experiencing myself. It seems too wonderful to ever exist, or even if it does, to ever happen to me.
But it must be mitigated by love. Love, to me, is the deliberate choice to shower attention upon someone. Sometimes it is obligatory, such as in family, but you can never force yourself to love someone you do not wish to. I could probably be in love with someone but not love them. I could definitely love someone but not be in love with them. I could, most likely, love and hate all at the same time.
Love is a fickle thing, and the English language is wholly ill-prepared to define it adequately.
I am a difficult person to even love. Who in their right mind would decide to fall in love with me?
Well, then again, since I believe falling in love to be an non-cognitive development, I suppose that "deciding" is the wrong word. The correct phrasing would be: "Who in their right mind would be audacious enough to instinctively desire the pains that could only come with falling in love with me?"
I don't even make friends easily, although one may argue that the friends I do make are firm ones, like rocks embedded in the earth. It takes an age of digging to get to me and be my friend, forget any mindless attraction. To become my friend is to be patient enough, willing enough, bull-headed enough, and most of all, smart enough to know when to stop pushing.
Because I will push away those who press too hard at the wrong time.
So, with all these factors, falling in love with me is definitely an 11 on a difficulty scale of 1-10, 10 being most difficult.
But I think I will settle for loving, and being loved in turn. Being in love is troublesome, especially when there is no guarantee like in fan fictions.
But somewhere, maybe I just want someone to prove me wrong.
