I've been doing a lot of thinking the past few days about the Grand Romantic Gesture. You know what I mean; in elementary school it was the note with the 'check yes or no' boxes, in high school it was a mix-tape of Songs That Mean Something, and in romantic comedies it generally involves Act III: 'Boy Gets Girl' (Act I is 'Boy Meets Girl', Act II 'Boy Loses Girl').
When I was younger I scoffed at the Grand Romantic Gesture, but today, at 23 1/2, what I wouldn't do for some nice guy to bring me flowers. (Ok, maybe not flowers...but you get the general idea.) At 16, I desperately wanted to be older and jaded, so I rolled my eyes at the flowers and breathy "You're beautiful" in the airport. At 18, my confidence shaken because I was working in a coffee shop and Not Living Up to My Potential, I was mean to the boys because I could be, and because it made me feel in control.
Of course, the Grand Romantic Gesture has several pitfalls. One, women are crazy psycho stalker bitches if they dare perform the Grand Romantic Gesture. Send Secret Admirer messages to some guy at work? I don't think so, buddy. You'll turn Mr. Wonderful into Mr. Took-a-Restraining-Order-Out-On-Me faster than you can read this sentence.
Two, the Grand Romantic Gesture is often performed by a guy you never wanted to show up on your doorstep. Ever. Even without a rose.
Three, in our 21st-century world of myspace and txtng, men no longer have the balls-to-the-walls attitude the Grand Romantic Gesture requires. I know you're scared of being rejected guys, but come on! Are you not men?
(And since no meditation on the Grand Romantic Gesture wouldn't be complete without a reference to Say Anything...)
Don't be a guy. Be a man. Stand outside my window with that boombox over your head. Except not literally, because it might disturb the neighbors.
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