In some ways, at least personally, romanticism is lost in this Age. I feel as if I should have lived in the romance of the 17th, 18th, or even 19th centuries. I´m not good at keeping up with technology, I prefer ideals, passions, an embracing of the frivolous or impractical.
“So they had given themselves, each to the youth with whom she had the most subtle and intimate arguments. The arguments, the discussions were the great thing: the love-making and connexion were only a sort of primitive reversion and a bit of an anti-climax… The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love. The only unfortunate thing was that men lagged so far behind women in the matter. They insisted on the sex thing like dogs. And a woman had to yield. A man was like a child with his appetites. A woman had to yield him what he wanted, or like a child he would probably turn nasty and flounce away and spoil what was a very pleasant connexion. But a woman could yield to a man without yielding her inner, free self.” (D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterly’s Lover)
Not saying that I entirely agree. But in the attempt to be more open-minded and free-spirited I had lost touch with the concept of mental attraction. Maybe because it’s been that long I haven’t been stimulated in such a way (not that I’ve been limited to the physical, just the reaction to a bond you feel without words). How quickly binding are its claws, how uplifting they hold you, and what an all-encompassing feeling it is.. to drink up the words and sweet nothings.
