Romance In A Column

chapter seven,

    A common defect of hopeless romantics is said to be the continuous interpretation of love in meaningless things. Thought of as a defect because the act of romanticizing the world is a double edged knife.

    You see, it is a delusion. A wonderful one, at that. To think amongst the many desires that drive human behavior—while some primal and others materialistics—and the actions that take place due to the very, are ignited or occur because of love, is gullible and naive.

    A thought process consequence to an ideal conjured from movies, books, generation-old family stories, plays and whatnot, which lead these hopeless romantics to project a rose-colored reflector onto things, scenarios, situations, not meant to even be illuminated to begin with.

    It's a sentence to a life full of letdowns. One, few escape with their morale and ideals intact.

    Eryn hadn't thought of her views of the world through this lense until Maya Oliveira—Nina's closest friend—had informed her as much.

    A weekday afternoon in which Melina had commuted to the two hour drive from UC Santa Barbara to Bakersfield, California in the company of her best friend, to pick her kid sister up from school for ice cream—a pick me up, she had called it. However, Eryn hadn't been the one in dire need of it.

    Inside the quaint, picturesque ice-cream shop, Melina had tasked Maya and Eryn with guarding one of the few unoccupied tables, and the only one with enough seats for the trio, while she ordered.

    There, Maya nonchalantly disclosed to a curious Eryn Melina and her then girlfriend had broken up—permanently this time, since they had paused multiple times for personal reasons in the past.

    The conversation experienced a brief lull while Eryn digested the information—with a single question in mind, a stereotypical one at that. One which would run from mouth to mouth in the months to come.

    "But why? I mean, they were like so in love," a high school Eryn had said, staring intently at Maya in hopes she'd answer.

    Maya Oliveira has a plausible air of superiority to her and a complex to match it. It's evident in her bourbon eyes, heavily lidded as she eyes one, paired with rampant curls of hair. Often wearing condescending amusement in her features because she thought of herself as the smartest person in the room—an indisputable fact more often than not.

    "That's cute," Maya began, while propping her elbows onto the table. "But that's not how the world works."

    Eryn, with knitted brows, had remained quiet which Maya took as a cue to continue.

    "Your sister's relationship, for one. They had great chemistry, trust, communication, all you could ask for. But Mel didn't see herself ever saying she loved Anna. In the real world, not all relationships lead to love or even have it to begin with." She waves her hand dismissively, intertwining them moments later. "People—to not generalize let's say romantics, like to think every couple is in love. Either immediately or eventually, but the point stands. They see it as a synonym, relationship equals love and maybe that's how it should be. But not all that should be, is."

    And though, unsurprisingly, Maya had been right—Eryn's viewpoint wasn't changed.

    However, the conversation she thought little of made an appearance that Monday evening when Eryn caught sight of a suit-clad man, crooning an elaborate bouquet while standing off to the side of the lobby awaiting, much like Eryn—though, probably for a different person.

    A thought then confirmed when an ample, somewhat idiotic, smile stretched upon his face at the sight of Astrid Cohen, no less.

    The journalist, albeit occupied by rummaging through her bag, doesn't pay much mind to her surroundings as she exits the elevator—which the man seems to find humor in, for he purses his lips and strains his cheeks to silence waves of laughter.