In defence of long-term love

Dr VonWoof just attended a very intimate, romantic, simple and beautiful wedding, of two very special friends who have a love so strong that the sun, moon, stars and entire universe revolve around it. According to their best man, anyway.

And I agree.

But it's forced me to do a lot of thinking, not all of it happy.

When I look at the Great Loves Recorded Throughout History And Fiction, they share a few common factors. Their love stories happen over a relatively short period (for Romeo and Juliet, a few days... for Lizzie and Mr Darcy, a year or so...). The shared love, once earned following an emotional struggle of some sort, is strong and true. And then... we hear no more.

At the point where the love is admitted, consummated, or so forth, we cut away. They live, presumably, happily ever after. Or die, in the case of poor Romeo and Juliet.

Which means that for a young romantic like myself, who has been in the "Living Happily Ever After" stage for about 7 years or so, there is simply no strong and true romantic ideal to look to for strength any more. While around me, Lizzies and Darcys discover their love, are carried along by the strength of it and have earth-stoppingly beautiful weddings where everyone sobs at the sheer LOVE of it all, Little Miss Happily Ever After stands on the sideline.

Confused.

And treated with suspicion bordering on downright concern by her peers. Their first assumption:

"So, but you guys are soulmates, right? You know that He's The One? Always has been?"

Umm, no... sorry... the thing about being Little Miss Happily Ever After, is that you don't really get to fully analyse or appreciate all the possibilities. Once the dizzying, heart-stopping, gravity-defying glow of new love fades into the duskyness of long-term companionship, of course you begin to ask "Is he the one and only?". And you just simply can't be 100% sure.

Their second assumption? That therefore there's nothing in it at all. That you've never known what it feels like to be madly, deeply in love, that you're just sitting by watching your life slip away.

But that's not true either. Because alongside those first few earth-shattering moments, there are a thousand small, beautiful, shared experiences.

Laughing at the chickens at the Easter show.
Finding the roundabout from Amelie in Montmartre.
Shopping for chocolate pop tarts late at night in the supermarket.
Getting pooed on by a bird. Four times.

And they constitute their own sort of love.

When I said all this to my very wise friend Jess, and expressed my concern that at this point the most romantic role model in my life was Queen Victoria and her most beloved Prince Consort, she said:

"Maybe you should be your own role model?"

And perhaps she's right.

I'll let you know in due course how it goes. But you won't be attending my wedding any time soon.