Mind Candy

Romance genres are an escape, but limerence is real

By Marie Ronnander

Since my first read of “The Princess Bride”, I’ve been captivated by the idyllic pursuit of love. This means that romance novels are my bread and butter. If anyone asks, my favorite book is “Pirenisi.” But I will happily run a lavender bubble bath, light some pink candles, and read the entirety of “Pride and Prejudice” in one sitting.

Perhaps for this reason, I have a (nearly) unabashed tendency to fall in love. I fall for sweet stories filled with shy smiles with quiet voices that burst into bubby laughs. I’m a lover of Love and all of her tropes.

Real life, however, isn’t a fast-paced romcom full of silly banter and outlandish plots that quickly “cuts to the good stuff.” That expectation shouldn’t permeate into the day-to-day. Unfortunately, my wildeyed faith in a true-love-story has caused me to lean into that hope.

What I mean to say is that my rose-colored glasses, while casting the world beautifully, don’t exactly give me 20/20 vision. Where I see romance in Romeo’s fatal dedication to Juliet, others see a lovesick fool. Where I’ve seen love at first sight, others just see… well, a stranger staring a little too intensely. But in reality, maybe that random person I met in my favorite bookshop won’t be the love of my life.

And maybe, someone baking you banana bread isn’t supposed to be a sweep-you-off-your-feet romantic gesture. And that’s okay. Sometimes acts of kindness are more meaningful than acts of love. Because, after all, life is tiring enough without the twists, turns, and turmoil that follows the protagonist of a romance novel.