As a child, you always perceived romance as dashing, bold, full of declarations. You read those
Jane Austen novels and watched movies you didn’t really understand on RomedyNow and you
thought- oh. The urgency, the yearning, the shaking breaths as foreheads rest together and the
city burns in the background- they’re all prerequisites to a romantic relationship. You weren’t
ready to be thrust into a world where suddenly you’re nineteen, you’re far too aware, and the
complexities and subtle innuendos of romantic relationships are whirling around you. Everything
you thought you would be doing at this time simply hasn’t happened yet. The rush of feelings,
the certainty of lust, the dramatic declarations of love while torrential rain hammers down on the
both of you, you are doing none of that. You wonder sometimes if it’s you, if your closed-off,
slightly reserved attitude before getting to know someone has wiped away a chance at romantic
endeavours.
And then, just as you’re accepting that romance comes naturally, organically- and that you
cannot rush it or calculate its arrival- you’re thrust into a talking stage.
It’s weird. At first, you’re just wondering what’s going on, whether you even felt a romantic
spark in person at all, but they’re texting you, and all the books you read and all the movies you watched flash in your head and you think, again, that you are nineteen- you’ve longed for
romance for so long that even in this format, all you can really find yourself asking is why not?
The texts are cautious, slow at first- and then they become more regular. They compliment you
more, in increasingly flirty ways until it’s so outright obvious that you cannot ignore it anymore,
but you’re also paranoid, slightly insecure, and prone to extreme embarrassment, so you would
never assume anyone was flirting with you until they said it exactly in those words. All your
friends keep telling you that they are clearly “so into” you, but are you even sure if you are
interested in them?
The difference between liking someone and being flattered by someone has always been difficult
for you to discern. It’s only natural to view someone through a certain lens once you are
painfully aware of the fact that they themselves perceive you through it- that they’ve thought
about you, dreamed about you, and maybe even talked about you. You wonder whether that’s
what you’re really after, the interest and not the individual. You know, really, that you do not
have time for a relationship, and you are certain, as much as you try to fool yourself, that you do
not have the mental space for it either. A talking stage is just that- a stage, a podium. A place
where you put up the performance of being interested in someone, as they do, so that you can
both avoid the conversation of whether you truly like each other at all. It is unnecessary and
essential all at once, because while you wonder why you ever thought anything would come of
this when it is increasingly clear that neither of you actually know, or want to know each other at
all, you understand more what a relationship demands, what feelings it should evoke, and most
importantly, what feelings it should not.
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Ashoka chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.