A few weeks ago, I joined the crowd of revellers attending Lisbon’s monthly Storytelling night. Ten different people get on stage for six minutes, telling a story from their life based on a given theme. It was the evening after Valentine’s Day and the theme was, appropriately: Love.
Only one of the stories that night was a love story in the romantic-with-a-happy-ending sense. A common theme was one-sided romantic relationships. I listened attentively to all of them, because love has been on my mind a lot of late. A friend I attended the event with asked me who I would talk about, if I were to tell a story. My reply was either my closest friend, or my grandmother. Two great loves in my life, who’ve made an enduring impact. A mutual understanding and feeling of love: of being seen, heard and held.
I thought about the relationships with the men of my twenties, in parts passionate, disastrous and heart-warming; ultimately, temporary. A few years ago, I decided to go within to face my own demons. I knew there were things I needed to figure out, but I had no road map and in truth, the journey has been a bit longer than I anticipated. En-route I’ve fallen prey to many different obstacles and distractions. There was no space while I really focused on a deep exploration of my shadows. Lately, I’ve been cultivating a lot more presence in my life and I can hear my own guidance clearly, thanks to the groundwork I've laid over the past 5/6 years. So, I make different choices. I stay the course. The only reward for patience has been patience, but I’m leaning into the commitment to my own wellbeing.
As a result, it’s been a while since romance has been on my mind: but it is now. It’s almost strange to recall those past loves, as I meet new friends and we swap stories. They seem to belong to someone else, a person I don’t recognise. Life all those years ago had a synchronicity and a rhythm that was interrupted - particularly since lockdown - but I feel a momentum slowly returning. Speaking to fellow singles, there is (understandably) a lot of disappointment about love. The Storytelling night did little to keep the embers of hope alive either. This differs from my older friendships, most of whom are happily in relationships.
Perhaps that’s a big reason why I haven’t lost the faith. Most met their person through friends, and by chance. I know more than a few stories, where many stars had to align for people to meet. Despite all the random events that needed to take place: it occurred. When it was time, destiny called. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t contrived. Two courses intersected and both people happened to be at the confluence.
I write this to remind myself that love can happen any time. Listening to the stories that night and thinking about the lethargy around romance when it becomes a distant memory ignited a sense of defiance inside me. I think a lot of us feel the need to justify why we’re “picky” if we’re still single. When really, it’s simple: we’re waiting for love. We're integrating the things we've learned about ourselves, and being in relationship with another. We want it to be the real thing. I don't believe that's something you can plan. There are some things I like to delegate to fate and serendipity. The good surprises in my life, regardless of the form they took, have always been far beyond what I could have imagined.
Life has generally taken a very serious tone over the past few years. Social media, podcasts, news and shows are awash with the more negative aspects of modern life, dating and the differences between the sexes. Perhaps it's time to re-normalise and talk up the simple and unexpected treasure of true romantic connection, the sweetness and lightness that is always possible.
Or perhaps all we can do is be grateful and welcoming when those moments of magic – however fleeting - happen in real life. The coming together of two souls, in the right place, at the right time: ready to enter the state of love.
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