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This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at UC Berkeley chapter.

The magnetic pull I felt toward romance began very early in my life. I often credit my countless viewings of Ella Enchanted as a toddler–I remember not understanding why my chest warmed every time Hugh Dancy lit up the screen, especially during the scene where Ella cries in the room of mirrors, desperate not to hurt Char (Hugh Dancy). I yearned for the way Char looked at Ella. While I sat through these formative viewings at just four or five years old, I grasped the story’s purpose: romance. 

You could argue I’m just a product of my mom showing me romance movies, but I watched everything–comedy, horror (definitely too early), action, drama: the works. But none of it ever quite captured me like romance. 

The enchanting quality of romance stories resembles that of fairy tales. Well, sometimes romance stories are fairy tales–but my adoration doesn’t falter there either. I’m being quite literal when I say this, as I was the stereotypical six-year-old girl who dreamt of becoming a princess when she grew up. And by “grew up” she meant being sixteen (the peak age of maturity). She desperately wished to come across a prince one day who would fall in love with her. That version of me ruled my early years; now, I’m more enamored with stories with the essence of a fairy tale, despite their intent to mirror real life. 

Sometimes when I read a particularly heart wrenching (positive connotation) romance book, I feel the urge to throw up (again, positive connotation). My stomach churns and tears prick my eyes… but then the reminder alarm goes off: A WOMAN WROTE THIS! THIS IS NOT A REAL MAN! But the alarm never brings me to my senses; it just saddens me further. Because as my life goes on and my consumption of romance-centered media increases, I realize I want to experience love–but in a book. I want fictional love: the male lead is sickeningly attractive and reads Jane Austen for his own enjoyment, every issue gets solved within four-hundred pages, and they live in a never-ending honeymoon phase. 

I’ve accidentally fallen in love with the idealized version of love. Even though I know (obviously partial to my own preferences, but I know!) I read tasteful romances of realistic characters with idiosyncratic traits, and conflicts accompanied with reason and cause. But even with my standards for romance books to feel tangible–I still find by the time I close the book, there’s a promised sigh of relief. A promise that is impossible to have in real life.

I’ve found through extensive research (conversing with my friends and being a citizen of the internet) that I’m not alone in this. As a young person in the 21st century that is heavily reliant on apps to connect with people–romance seems to be lost on us. We are not forced to approach one another, or have fulfilling conversations… Instead, you can send pictures back and forth of half of your face and once that goes on long enough—it must be love! I think we all recognize a level of ridiculousness to this, but the problem is it’s considered “normal.” However, as a girl with a long-term investment in romance, I have stayed far, far away from that reality because as a true hopeless romantic–I still believe there can be something real. 

But, I have yet to find anything close. So alongside many other women in my generation, we devour romance books, songs, and films. This isn’t necessarily unique to people in my age group–or even century. But, I do think we have a particular desire for romance as it feels less and less possible as more and more people become dependent on dating and social media. Also as we–women attracted to men–are more aware of the way men are, it becomes even harder to believe we could find a perfect man different from the rest. You may think you’re genuinely friends with a man and then in conversation they’ll make a comment like “that’s so gay” and suddenly, the glass shatters. Or you think you finally have a male friend that enjoys you just as a person, but then comes the fateful “I have feelings for you” text. Cue the glass shatter.

So naturally, we have turned to art forms that portray love–the only place where love seems to be fantastical, everyone says the right thing, and everything falls into place. While some people attribute it to fear, I believe we can blame it on the options for romantic partners, our reliance on nurturing connections online, and people’s unwillingness to embrace romance. So at least for now, I will stick with the idealized version of love.

Keira Betsch

UC Berkeley '26

Keira is a third year at UC Berkeley majoring in English and Media Studies. She is currently a staff writer for the Berkeley chapter. Keira has been an avid reader from an early age, and that passion quickly developed into a love for writing and editing. She has always treasured that the written word allows people to resonate with complete strangers–and she is excited to be part of that on the writing end. Keira looks forward to growing as a writer while part of the Her Campus team. When Keira’s not writing or reading, she can be found thrifting or scouring Depop; editing YouTube videos of her and her friends; or rewatching her favorite shows and movies.