To Whomever Cares,
I’m so tired. I am a failure. I’m useless and I’ve completely failed.
I used to do well, really well. Back in the day my name meant “chivalry” and I tried to be good. Knights would hunt dragons in my name just to woo a girl and women would wait years for their “intended” to come see them.
Now I’m stupid and useless. Nobody waits for anyone any more, nobody tries to slay anything in my name, unless you count trying to kill Reagan to impress Jodie Foster. (I guess the dragon analogy actually works on that one.)
But look at me: I’m ugly now. I’m a total failure. People used to write poems in my name—this amazingly beautiful poetry—just to try to court someone.
During the Enlightenment, during the Renaissance, works of art and literature were everywhere. Entire operas were written about love and the main plot of nearly everything was how to romance a girl.
Now? Now I’m a failure. Forget poetry, the closest thing to poetry is what some emo girl wrote in her latest blog: bad poetry about how much nobody understands her except for some boy named Dustin or Colin. World, I’ve failed you. I’m sorry you had to deal with me. I don’t know what’s happened to me.
I used to mean something, really I did, but now the only literary works I’m in are either about vampires and teen girls who think romance is just not killing someone, or are a Nicholas Sparks novel where the message is, “Love sucks and you’ll be really sad. Also, the best way to have a romance is to be depressed.”
Now do you see why the world would be better if I were just gone?
I mean, I feel like I’m dying anyway. I never meant to hurt anyone. I never wanted it to end like this. I feel like I can’t go on though. Nobody likes me and I feel useless. The earth would be a better place if I were just gone.
Marriage means nothing anymore. The word “relationship” seems more like a pejorative nowadays than anything meaningful.
There used to be an entire process dedicated to me. People would labor long hours to think of ways to perform grand gestures in my name.
I used to be bigger than the moon. I was the Casanova of life.
Now people can just text each other, “come over” and skip the entire process.
And dating websites? Don’t get me started! Gone are the days of putting yourself out on an emotional limb. Instead of actually committing to one person and working to gain his or her favor, people spam each other with pre-written words and just hope for a casual hookup.
Movies make people think it’s not a relationship unless there’s a big fight and some elaborate misunderstanding.
Television has you convinced that the girl of your dreams will be an incredibly attractive nerd who cooks like a professional chef and loves to watch you play Halo.
Books make you think that Mr. Right will be rich, strong, handsome, sensitive and will somehow also be single and sincere and want only you. Now do you get why I feel useless and like nobody cares about me anymore? Where did the actual love go? When did romance go from chivalry, to love, to Nicholas Sparks novels?
Dying is all I’m good for now. The world will be a better place without me. I hate existing and feeling this way and I don’t think anyone will care if I’m gone. I’m practically dead anyway.
Love, you’re the best. You’ve been a great friend and I will miss you. In the words of Kurt Cobain, “Please, be happy.”
Sex, you and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but in the end you were always there for me. Be well, and keep going.
Sincerely, Romance.
Richard Solomon can be reached at richard.solomon@spartans.ut.edu