Who says romance is dead?  My nephew just asked his - text all night long friend - to be his girlfriend.  Their pseudo relationship was touch and go all summer but last night he made his move.  He bought her flowers and a can of Febreze - to represent a "fresh" start.  Awwwww!


The last bit of romance I was privy to was...hmmm...give me a minute...do you hear crickets?  I mean I have gotten flowers from a love interest once or twice.  I have even received a box of candy at Valentine's Day (which is never a nice gift for me because inhaling an entire box of chocolate is not attractive!).  One time I sprinkled Hershey's Kisses on the front stoop of my hope-to-be-more-than-friend's house with a sign that read, I will "kiss" the ground you walk on.  My therapist gave me a free session for that one.


Romance is in the movies and honestly - that is where it should stay.  Good looking people picnicking in the park, wearing weather appropriate, stylish clothing, nibbling on exotic olives from the olive bar at Whole Foods, gorgeous orchestra music swelling in the background.  No ants.  No food allergies.  No tight shorts or bra straps showing.  No pretending to smile. No sweaty palms or glistening foreheads.  Just gorgeous people having a gorgeous romantic picnic who will go home and have gorgeous romantic sex.  That is why I love the movies.


Reality, on the other hand, yikes.  Romance is hit or miss.  Intentions and execution are often a tad bit off.  The movies have truly ruined a nice romantic gesture.  The other day my co-worker received a dozen red roses from her fiance.  So sweet.  No reason, just because.  And that should be enough right?  But no.  My - Miss. Thing - asks her the next morning, so did you have sex with him last night?  Because in the movies they would have had sex.  In the movies she would have greeted him at the door after a long day at work in colorful silk panties and matching push-up bra.  And after their hot sexual moment they would have eaten pancakes by candlelight, laughing and talking until the wee hours of the morning.  Maybe that's what they did.  But something tells me there was some hugging and a little kissing and lots of yawning and probably a cuddle or two while curled up on the couch eating leftovers and falling asleep to a sitcom rerun.


I believe romance is a big grand gesture and a small intimate expression.  The information and ideas are out there.  No longer can people claim they don't know how to be romantic.  Google it.  In the meantime, I will leave romance to the professionals and curl up with my favorite romance novel Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.  Ignore me when I swoon.

There is some statistic floating around that links Facebook with the increasing percentage of people who claim they suffer from depression.  Three days ago I would have paused here to roll my eyes.  A big eye roll that would have gotten me sent to my room as a teenager.  But a few days ago I opened an email which contained a picture of my sister and me and we look - gorgeous.  In the picture, we are unusually thin, frizz-free hair, our skin is bronze and glowing, the background scene is magazine worthy, she is playfully leaning into me and we look like the happiest two people who ever called themselves sisters.  And this picture was taken at one of the worst times in both of our lives.


Looking at the picture you can't see that the only food I could keep down for months was cereal and almonds or that I was so broke I barely had two pennies to rub together.  Looking at the picture you can't see that my sister's husband almost died in a serious health crisis, leaving him unemployed and she holding her family and the roof up single handedly.  Looking at the picture you wouldn't know the truth - you would only see the smiles and the hair and pretty background.


When I look at a picture like that, its as if I am peeking into someones window and making up a story about what I see.  Mrs. Kravitz (Bewitched) was always looking in Samantha and Darren's windows and could never make sense of what she saw.  She spent her life focused on her neighbors across the street instead of her husband Abner sitting in the living room, begging for attention.  I am Mrs. Kravitz when I look at my Facebook news feed.   When I see the mahi-mahi fish tacos with homemade salsa (from your garden) that you are serving for dinner - suddenly my store bought salsa and ground beef tacos I am serving don't measure up.  And our weekend, sitting around playing cards, taking walks, reading and building Minecraft villages was fun until I read about your weekend jaunt to the mountains - hiking, exploring, breathing fresh mountain air.  Suddenly my air seems boring and dull and suffocating.


But the truth is - I don't know the truth behind those pictures.  Nobody is posting that the mahi-mahi tacos went uneaten because the kids gagged and the husband was "working late" again.  Rarely are people posting themselves yelling at their kids to hurry the hell up and get in the damn car because we are going to the mountains as a family and you are going to have fun whether you like it or not!   Am I depressed?  No.  Do I feel envy when I look at my news feed?  Absolutely.  That is why I visit Facebook from time to time, as an indulgence, like reading People magazine.  Most days I know its not real or at the very least, not the whole story.  I'm an adult educated woman entrenched in her  spiritual life and I get tricked by the illusion of Facebook.  And we are expecting our young people to navigate these treacherous waters without emotional consequence?  After seeing that picture of my sad, under-nourished, broken, gorgeous self,  I now have compassion for those people who take envy and resentment to the next level.

​