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When Marriage Isn’t a Fairytale
Back in high school, my boyfriend’s basement was a treasure trove of romance novels, each stacked neatly on the shelves. After school, we would stroll in, greet his mom, and then sneak down the stairs under the pretense of studying. But let’s be honest: we were just looking for a cozy spot on that old velvet couch to steal kisses while surrounded by the sultry glances of heroic men and swooning women from the covers.
His mom, Mrs. Thompson, was often lost in those captivating stories, flipping through the pages of her well-loved paperbacks. She and Mr. Thompson had been sweethearts since high school and tied the knot at 21, celebrating their love under a heart-shaped archway of white roses on a sweltering summer day. Fast forward thirty years, and their basement was like a library of romantic fantasies, with over 200 novels waiting to be read.
Back then, I couldn’t quite grasp the allure. Why read about love when you could feel it firsthand—palms sweating, hearts racing, and that delightful ache of longing? Now, with nearly 15 years of marriage and three kids under our roof, the daily grind of life—work schedules, school runs, and bills—has pushed the romance to the sidelines. I can barely recall the thrill of new love, where every heartbeat felt like a drum and love songs seemed to narrate our story. You know, the kind that makes you hold your breath every time the phone rings or scribble a love note on a scrap of paper, folding it just right to fit in your pocket.
In the early days, the spark between my husband and me was electric—so intense it was almost overwhelming. We married on that high, convinced our love would always feel that way. But time has a way of shifting things. Love ebbs and flows, growing with each challenge and triumph we face together. The arrival of our daughters brought a deepening of my affection for my husband, especially through tough times like a miscarriage and the demands of parenthood. Yet, I sometimes long for the raw, unfiltered passion of our beginning when we took that fierce love for granted.
That’s the magic of romance novels, right? They capture the essence of those exhilarating moments: first love, love that conquers all, and that fluttery excitement that comes with it. The only time I dove into a romance novel was when I devoured the Twilight series. Sure, it’s aimed at teens, but it’s a timeless tale of first love that resonates with anyone: the innocent girl meets the forbidden boy, tension builds, danger lurks, and against all odds, they find their way back to each other. It’s like Romeo and Juliet with a vampire twist.
While the first kiss between the characters kept me glued to the pages, my favorite moments were those where the vampire boy held back, fearing his overwhelming desire. Instead of rushing in, he would cradle her, protecting her warmth against his cold, hard chest. Those are the moments that feel real. When my husband wraps his arms around me, I often close my eyes, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat. In that embrace, everything else fades away, and it’s just us—no matter the chaos around us, that’s what love feels like.
There are still those moments when my heart races for him, but I’ve swapped the jitters of new love for a deeper, more profound bond that only time can build. When the longing for those wild, passionate days hits, I find myself reaching for a romance novel. I wonder which one Mrs. Thompson would recommend!
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In summary, marriage might not always feel like a romance novel, but it evolves into something equally beautiful—a love that deepens through shared experiences.