Dear Romance,
Where are you? Once upon a time you were bleeding from my fingertips, and now you are lost in the grand canyons of nowhere. I mean, cuddling up alone to two bottles of Chardonnay and fuzzy pink slippers on a Wednesday night just doesn't cut it anymore, even if their is a teenaged Christian Slater movie on TV. I want the real thing. I want petals, and fondue, and gilded lingerie, and waterfalls, and serenades, and balconies, and whispered candied words, and all the other delicious souvenirs of love.
Really? I'm making myself puke just a little bit. But something is missing. And romance, I know it's you.
