Two Types of Hopeless Romantics
There are two types of hopeless romantics in this world: the one that screams, butterflies in your stomach! and the one that whispers, the butterflies are quiet. But what if the best kind is having to experience both with the same person?
I. Butterflies in your stomach
There are two types of hopeless romantics. The one that screams, “falling in love should feel like butterflies in your stomach!” You’ll see him screaming and fighting about how love should be passionate and fierce. He’ll point out argument after argument, how falling in love should feel like shouting the words, “I can’t get enough of you. I need you here, and I need you now.”
It’s the kind of love where the butterflies aren’t just flying in your stomach, but they’re in a riot, causing a hurricane whenever your eyes meet. And the moment they do, your cheeks flush, and your smile is a smile you can’t help but make, and you wonder, “How did I get so lucky?”
II. The butterflies are quiet.
There are two types of hopeless romantics in this world. While the former screams, the latter whispers, “falling in love should feel like peace.”
Because she’ll shake her head at the proclamation he said and say, “No, that’s not love. That’s anxiety.”
That’s the kind of love when your heart beats fast, faster than it did when you finished a race. Louder than it did when you climbed the summit, and notice the death-defying fall.
No. You should have a love that makes you feel safe.
It’s the kind of love where seeing her makes you want to fall asleep, and you can spend your whole day waking up and falling asleep in bed, and still say it’s the best day you’ve had in a while.
It’s the type of love not ending in fleeting kisses, or electrifying touches, but the one you come home to every night, watching movies at home, and leaning on their shoulder when the day has gone by.
III. Oh, to experience both.
They say there are two types of hopeless romantics in the world: the one that screams, butterflies in your stomach! and the one that whispers, the butterflies are quiet. But I can’t help but think, how incredibly favored one must be, for the universe to grant them both by the same person they coincidentally met, befriended, and fell in love with.
Because staring at her eyes is a whirlwind of emotions, but her looking at his remind her of the home she saw in the middle of the woods — a safe haven after a long day. Kissing her makes him understand every love song, and every romcom movie with the kiss as the grandeur of the moment, and yet every time their lips touch, she finally understands how the girl always melts under his arms.
Because his embrace feels like home after she wanders and moves from one place to another, but hearing her heart beat in his ear, fast, makes him want to match her breathing. Because holding his hand gives her the biggest smile with the thought of you’re mine, but also, letting her know he’ll be with her, even when she falls asleep, even when things go south. Because being him means she’s happiest — be it staying in because of the weather, or running with him in the mountains–she knows at the end of the day, she’s home.
They say there are two types of hopeless romantics in this world. One that screams butterflies in your stomach, and one that whispers the butterflies are quiet. But what if it’s a little bit of both? One thing I know for sure. My heart will break the moment the butterflies have died: the minute when the home becomes a battlefield, and the sweet nothings have become tiresome everythings.
Because the butterflies will fly again. The butterflies will quiet down again. But the butterflies dying, that is the worst kind of heartbreak of them all.
Because love–or loving the right one, should be a mix of both. It should be butterflies in your stomach exploding, while some choose to rest in the gardens of your heart. It should be being surprised with sides you’ve never known they have, but at the same time pointing out the mannerisms you’ve noticed after spending a little too much time with them. Because love can be dancing in the club at night, without a care in the world, but love can also stay in while the rest give a toast to hell-nos and hook-ups. Because love is passionate and calm all at once. Love is stealing kisses, and giving them. Love is cooking, but also asking them how to cook.
Because in the times love looks hard, it is. There will be a million little moments, when the butterflies stir, reminding you love can be hard, but love can also be oh-so-easy.
I hope you found a love where it is a home and an adventure all at once.
