Letting Free the Hidden Romantic

Once upon a time, my feelings were an enigma that I locked away for safe keeping. Periodically, those feelings would leak out as tears around family and I'd be told to not be so sensitive; as I got older, those feelings would be expressed through a hug or a kiss with a boy, and then I'd be reminded that they just wanted to get in my pants. Yet, hiding those feelings left honest friends to describe me as cold, heartless, and relatively bitchy. **ouch**

By college, my feelings had become like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. My boyfriend back then, had to suffer from my neediness of attention and a dearth on my part to be able to be vulnerable to those feelings. After graduation, I forced myself to grapple with those conflicting needs. I explored my spirituality, exorcised some demons, apologized to a bazillion different people, and got comfortable with openly telling people I love them. Sometimes, too often -- sometimes inappropriately -- most times, awkwardly.

Now at 32, I weep with joy, I weep at frustration, and can become teary-eyed for unknown reasons. At night, I dream of sitting in a remote tropical location, wrapped in a loving embrace. Random moments during the day, memories of

• watching sun rays sweep across a lover's face in the morning,
• sharing the magic and beauty of a sunset at the beach, or
  
• letting the kid in me escape with a boyfriend fill my spirit.

Each memory overflows my heart with joy. And more joy comes when:

• I attend friend's wedding and I am ecstatic about the new path the couple is on;
• I capture a photo of lovers gazing into one another's eyes causing me to grin like The Cheshire Cat ;  
• I hear stories of the ups and downs of marriage, I remind the friend with communication this too will pass, and can be hopeful and supportive that their will vanquish whatever foe; and 
• I happily send text messages to friends congratulating them on good news.  

I read novels and through my mind's eye can feel the passionate embrace between lovers. I watch movies, and I openly cheer for the protagonist to win the heart of the targeted person's affection. No barrier seems too insurmountable, no conflict too set in stone, that an agape-style love cannot overcome. I even happily indulge in romantic daydreams, with no expectation of them coming true -- all as part of letting my inner romantic side free. And with the cage to my heart now open, the hopeless romantic in me waits for the charming one to sweep me off my feet; while my head continues my pragmatic quest for safety and security.