I might’ve mentioned this in a previous post—my mind slips me. But I was a hopeless romantic. You know what? Scratch that—I was hopeful, and here’s why.
I was a stone-cold believer in love (the romantic kind, of course). I’d slip aimlessly into the stories that captivated us growing up—any variation of Cinderella, really (Pretty Woman, She’s All That, etc.)—and the belief that love could appear in the most inconspicuous ways.
And while I might be your typical muse-driven writer who draws inspiration from personal love affairs, that’s not always the intention, so to speak. Every romantic soirée or dating experience I’ve had wasn’t just about chasing an artistic jolt for the next novel or essay. The truth is: I want to feel what I imagine to be true in these stories.
I want the unexpected bump on a busy city street. A random invite to an underground art gathering. A speed-dating experience gone right—where I meet my “happily ever after.”
But here’s the question I keep coming back to: are dreamy, magical moments like that only for the delusional? Those who would rather float on a cloud of love than anchor a relationship in truth?
Maybe.
But...couldn’t both exist?
Couldn’t we “Voyage to Atlantis” and “Make It Last Forever”?
I’m just saying—I believe both could work. And that’s the key word: work—something I’m noticing people aren’t so excited to do when it comes to relationships these days.
(From left to right: Isaiah Washington and Theresa Randle in a still from Spike Lee’s Girl 6 (1996)—a cult classic ahead of its time.)
I think that’s why I’ve always loved romance movies that show the challenge of balancing love and self.
While it wasn’t a “romance” flick, per se, Girl 6 had all the makings of a delusional heart chasing a fantasy, only to be met with a truth sharp enough to shatter the illusion of what it really means to be desired. Theresa Randle’s character, Judy—an aspiring actress turned phone sex operator—used her performance skills to bring other people’s fantasies to life, at least on the other end of the line.
Without giving too much away for those who might get curious and want to watch, let’s just say: she gets swept up in her dreamworld, only to be brought back down to earth. But in doing so, she realizes something powerful—love can exist when you stop shrinking yourself to fit into mediocrity.
Also, let’s be real—Isaiah Washington, Randle’s on-screen ex-husband, was easy on the eyes.
So, let’s take Love Jones, for example—an all-time favorite. Not just for the iconic soundtrack with an all-star lineup of musicians, but for its essence. The storyline. The truth in it. It’s a timeless film, but it wasn’t always easy to watch.
(From left to right: Nia Long and Larenz Tate in a still that defined a generation’s idea of Black love—Love Jones (1997), directed by Theodore Witcher.)
Here were two people struggling with communication—and sometimes, the lack of it. There were too many outside influences muddying the waters, which made it even harder for them to get to know each other. And then there were the games—Cat-and-mouse tactics. Power plays.
Exhausting.
That never worked for Tom and Jerry—why would it work for Nina and Darius? But I digress.
As much as I’m a sucker for the rollercoaster of romance on screen, in real life, I want something more grounded. Something slow-burning. Steady. Intentional.
Now that I’ve said that out loud, here’s the other question that’s been poking at me: Where’s my Perfect Person?
Does such a phenomenon even exist?
Like most humans, I’ve had my fair share of heartbreak and bittersweet endings to what felt like sure things, but would burn out faster than a building fire.
And don’t get it twisted—some of those flames felt like Havana nights with arroz con pollo and a mojito with fresh mint.
Others? Like barely escaping the ruins of a collapsing structure.
Either way, they’re mine.
And while I don’t regret any of them, I do sometimes wonder: when will I reach my version of nirvana in love?
In a world where we can imagine a new form of value and call it cryptocurrency, I’d like to imagine a new form of love—and call it romantic nirvana:
The ultimate climax of true connection.
Because…why not?
It would be a dream of mine to meet someone who gets me. I get them. And together, we live.
Laugh.
Love.
Rendezvous at Chateau “Beautiful & Expensive in an Exotic Part of the World.”
Hold the “secret”—because I want to be seen with the one who keeps me curious, challenged, and craving more.
Dramatic? Maybe. I can be—depending on the moment. But I don’t think it’s farfetched. And I don’t believe I have to settle for anything less.
Still, none of this can happen if I don’t step out of my comfort zone.
So he can find me.
So we can find each other.
I guess I’ll put a pin in this overexemplification of the perfect match.
For now.
But let me ask you:
What’s your idea of a “perfect match” or “perfect romance”?
Do you call it something else, entirely?
And more importantly…have you found it?