Romance hit by a wrecking ball in the modern world

Love, it is said, is a many-splendoured thing. But in its modern avatar, it seems to have got jaded, conscripted, hashtagged, abbreviated to something a mite less grand. Tks luv

By: Bikram Vohra\

When we were young we went to the beach and wrote love letters in the sand. No one does that now. Instead, they put up three sticks and play cricket with a softball.or they send messages in abbreviation. Not much romance in that.

These days the priorities are different. Wealth, a steady job and income and everything in situ are vital for romance to flourish. Not so long ago, a man and a woman started out to make a life together. They climbed up the stairs from a sublet to find room at the top over the years. It was fun. Now it all comes pre-packed. You have to tick all the boxes. Do you have a house? What is your earning power? Car? Fridge? Medical insurance? Prospects? How far away do your parents live? Cupid cannot be like the Emperor, not wearing any clothes. He had better polish his wings and show some style. And a decent bank balance to boot. And she had better pull her weight.

Both men and women have lost the stamina for the long haul, they want it all on Day One. What, you haven’t got me a diamond ring? You call this love? And what about the down payment on the flat? No way am I sitting in this toy car.

All marriages that end on the rocks at any level of society are doomed by material demands. Over property, over land, over money, over the ‘why can’t I have what they have’ overriding sentiment.

Most importantly, we lose out because we get bored so easily. A generation or two ago nobody got bored. We had imagination and our minds were ours, not sold to the digital store and downloaded. If we did any downloading it was from the mind, our minds. Consequently, we were so busy inventing games, ideas, things to do, reading, we never had time to get bored. Now that we have surrendered our minds to third parties and they control us in a not so remote fashion the same mind has rusted over and has nothing to do. Hence the boredom.

This state spills into all relationships but impacts most devastatingly on freshly painted marriages. The couples get jaded. So trained are we to respond to fresh stimuli that the novelty wears off and the effort to make it work is just that. too much of an effort. We often blame the woman for being the wicked witch. Like he was a wonderful son and brother until she came along and ruined him.

Not always true. He wanted to be ruined, that was in his DNA, maybe she just pushed it along but don’t let him off the hook.

Imagine in today’s grab-and-grasp world if the Titanic was hitting an iceberg.

Rose: Jack, I think we have hit an iceberg.

Jack: Hmmmm… yes, the boat is tilting a bit.

Rose: We will have to go down together.

Jack: We.lll, you know about that, I was thinking, maybe we should wait a while, like I am taking the next lifeboat, if you get one, catch you on shore.

Rose: What, you would leave me here to drown?

Jack: You can swim and you have a life jacket. You’ll be fine. Toodle-oo then! Here’s a wave; did you get it? A wave, like that one over there about to break over the bow?

The only wooing one hears about is politicians doing it to their electorate. In the old days people sang songs below balconies and shoved daggers into their heart, made major gestures of undying love. Remember Sir Walter Raleigh? He took off his silken cape and flung it across a rain puddle and the Queen walked over it and was so impressed she gave the old chap a whole fleet of ships to go wreck the world.

Give it a shot today.

She: What are you doing, Mani?

He: Taking off my Dh4,000 branded suit from Italy, my love?

She: Whatever for, have you gone nuts?

He: To fling it over that flipping pool of mucky water forming around that leaky pipe, that’s why, my chickadee.

She: But why would you do it? That’s the one my mother bought you. Don’t you have any respect for her? I know you don’t like her but ruining a perfectly good suit.

He: I am doing it so you can walk over it in your unwashed sneakers, poppet.

She: Why would I want to walk over your silly coat over a silly puddle? Have you gone bananas? Mother! Mani’s ruined the gift you got for him.

In days gone by, men burst into poetry when they spotted the beaming light of their lives. Don’t quite get the same result with ‘Hey’ or ‘Howdy’ or ‘See ya’ or any of those abbreviated forms of greeting we abide by these days. You can’t leap into shining poetry from a ‘yep, dude, my bad, cool.’ And in any case, pretty foolish you’d look erupting into poetry with everyone watching.

He: You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

She: Be quiet, will you.

He: Your eyes, like sapphires in the sky, no need to wonder why. Just one smile and I’ll walk a mile.

She: I don’t believe this, stop him someone, don’t ever call me again, ever, ever. I’m deleting you from my WhatsApp.

Fine, I exaggerate. Everyone is not callow and pathetic. But we cannot deny that the texture of romance has changed.

Guess it’s the era we live in. I mean, how much pure romance can you dredge from a WhatsApp message.

#luvu #pls 4giv# CFY#BC# TC#

Go figure.

Published by CityFella

Moved to the Big Tomata in the nineties from San Francisco. No Suburbs for me with its single colored houses and lawns and the excitement of pulling out my trash can once a week. I'm a CityFella , a part time New Yorker. I'm happiest in the Center City where people the streets and people are alive. I'm still waiting to buy a 34th floor condo somewhere downtown/Midtown with a nightclub. "Hurry I'm old" My politics are somewhere in the middle with a needle that constantly moves. I'm too liberal to be a Republican and too conservative to be a Democrat. Everything interests me . I've come to love Sacratomato, Its a nice town in cheap sensible shoes .

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