Why I Call Myself a Romantic Realist

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*I attended a data analytics and visualisation workshop this week, and have been expressly forbidden from continuing to use pie charts. Bubble charts are where it’s at.

A quick note to explain the term

Sometimes my writing on Tinder can come off as a little cynical, but you’ll note underneath it all, I want people to do it right, because I want them to find love (even on a hook-up app). I am a romantic.
People expect women to be romantic. By no means is it always true, but there is an assumption. So what I’m saying is – I’m the kind of romantic who reads romance novels. I watch When Harry Met Sally… with alarming regularity. In fact, you can hook the Nora Ephron directly in to my veins, thanks.
But real life is infinitely more complicated than the happily ever after. The background I come from is not solely my story to tell, and given I write under my own name I don’t  want to expose real people, who still exist in a real marriage. But suffice to say that as I grew up, the friends I gravitated to were people a bit like me. For us the norm was divorce, single parents, step-parents and endless other domestic complications. Visiting a friend’s house and finding two parents who were loving and affectionate, who bantered instead of bickered, was like stepping in to an alternate universe. Why was no-one calling each other stupid or unreasonable?
So I’m a romantic. But I’m a realist. What does that mean? It means I truly believe in love, and believe it’s worth fighting for when you find it. Personally, I think it’s worth waiting for. But it also means that I know love can be fragile, and hard to find. And most of all – when it comes to love, actions speak louder than words. All the pretty words mean nothing, if you don’t act like it.

 

Published by

Katie Sparkes

A Romantic Realist

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