A Slow Dance

So here we are at "relationship status: single" again and it's cause for reflection. I've come to a point in my life where I've got plenty of experience under my belt (pun intended) and I'm edging closer and closer to being ready for the real deal. Yet at the same time, I hate wasting weekends on dating when I could be out exploring or being with my friends. The conundrum is: if you spend all your time with your friends having a blast, when do you leave open the opportunity to meet someone?

I find dating not only tedious, but premeditated. There's absolutely no romance in it. I've got dating down to an art. I have a wide array of intimate dinner recipes to cook from. A collection of mood music that could make even Ella's voice tremble with longing. And a penchant for twirling someone around for an impromptu ballroom dance that really is irresistible. I know just when to reveal a devilish smirk, launch into a charming story or catch someone off-gaurd with a subtle compliment. Perhaps it's that I've been approaching dating less like art and more like science. Too much method.

But you see it's not completely my fault. I learned from my parents, high-school sweethearts who, to this day, are exhaustingly endearing. There are times when I go back home to be with them, only to realize at some point during the first evening that I've become an outsider. A voyeur of their continual romance. I mean, these are people who rarely get out of the house and who should, by all accounts, have nothing to talk about. And yet, they can still have heated discussions for hours about, well nothing actually. My mother still understands exactly how to coyly tease and my father still delights her with gift-giving escapades that are more akin to hunting expeditions. What choice do I have but to want the same seeming-perfection for myself? What I want is a romance that is endless and ever-repeating.

The evidence can be found in my choice of movies. There's Overboard where Goldie Hawn's character is fooled into thinking (after a bout of amnesia) that Kurt Russell's character is her husband. And despite the fact that he's really just trying to get even with her, she falls in love with him anyway. She despises him until halfway through the movie he tells her a beautiful sea story about Caterina and Arturo and it's clear the magic is happening. Annie asks, "Oh Dean, was it always like this?" To which he replies, "every time with you was like the first time."

In 50 First Dates, Lucy is a character who has been traumatized in an auto accident and can only remember her life up until the day the accident happened. Every new day is like starting over for her and she cannot create any new memories longer than that day. But of course Henry loves her on sight and decides one day is all he needs. Every day for her becomes like a first date at the end of which she always says, "there's nothing like a first kiss." I mean, really. Do I need to have brain damage to find a love like theirs?

But I think my favorite story is not told through a 90-minute movie but through an 8-season TV show. For eight years of Who's The Boss, Tony and Angela's undeniable but never quite requited chemistry unfolds. In one episode (a dream sequence, not even a real TV life one), Tony finally asks her, "Do you wanna dance?" She replies, "Only if you don't think we're moving too fast." And, here's the kicker, he's says, "It's okay...it's a slow dance."

I guess I'm learning that for me it's not about finding a perfect relationship, but a relationship filled with perfect moments. After all, I wouldn't call myself a hopeless romantic so much as a hopeful one. I'm not looking for an amazing one-night dance...just a simple, slow one.