by Errant

Created on: May 09, 2008

Dating is the act of courting with intent of coitus. Romance is nothing but a fancy word for foreplay. Whatever fantasy a person operates under from a young age quickly becomes more honest as we animals grow older. Some say there was no magic at all when it comes to dating. Then how do they explain all the dead unicorns?

There is magic in the beginning. It was instilled by a lifetime of entertainment that showed a romantic comedy where some slob gets hooked up to a ridiculously hot female or Prince of a man. It's in the fantasy novels where the peasant girl is saved by a knight in shining armor and in the end the peasant girl becomes a princess. Humanity is brainwashed into believing that not only is there someone out there perfect for them but that'll equate to the be all to end all. It's this unattainable standard which is the magic and it helps sell more beer.

It's the best well thought out con in the history of mankind. It marketed itself to be something bigger than it was and made it a requisite for everyday life. You don't live for yourself. You live for someone else. You work towards their happiness and must buy the most wax filled chocolate you possibly can for them. An industry ranging from vapid clichd cards to wedding magazines have too much to lose not to remind you that loved people are happy people. Love it seems is not a pill that fires off the correct neurons but an indescribable force that can only be made real with the purchase of useless things.

Unrealistic and unattainable, people settle for what they can get; always longing for that moment which will never come. Some fritter away their lives trying to delude themselves that if they say the words, "I love you" long enough that they'll actually believe it.

A deluded dreamer believes things will be simply happen and they'll live happily ever after. Serendipity would hit them with lightening a few times; and maybe they get run over by a moose; then penultimate mate would come to help them, thus ending in a copulation fest that would put promiscuous bunnies to shame.

The dark romantic believes that if they brood and suffer enough, a child of the night will come mother them as darkness consumes the world. While the cold chill means nothing as they are satisfied with the taste of crimson and cheap make-up.

As personality types really go, there is the deluded and the realistic. The problem is no one is ever realistic enough. Fantasy has been used as an excuse for a healthy serving of relationship maintenance in some hippie circles. It's apparently healthy to role play and pretend that you're sleeping with someone else. A consensual cheating if you will.

Then there is the fruition of all this disillusionment; the disenfranchised and self proclaimed realists. Love is nothing more than an urge which is a squat in the groin and a vampire that leaves before the sun rises. It leeches from you that childhood as that afterglow fades away and you're stuck with the hotel room bill. Love is truly meant for the young, for only the young and deceived can enjoy it on so many levels that I wish I could go back to.

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