Falling in love at 30

 All the 30+ peeps, make some noise!! (Thunderous applause)

All the single 30+ peeps, make some noise!! (Scattered 3-clap disappointed applause)
Did that set the context of the rant below?

I’m new to being 30; 4 months new. I didn’t think of it to be a big deal till I went to the doctor recently.

Me: Doctor, my symptoms are A, B, C, D. My habits are P, Q, R, S.
Doctor: That’s the reason.
Me: But I’ve been that for years. What’s causing changes so suddenly now?
Doctor: You’re 30.

I’m not going to lie. It hit me like a bag full of nuts and bolts smacked across my face.

Reason for doctor (Just giving you some context):

At 22, when you get your heart broken, you need Jack Daniels. At 30, when you get your heart broken, you need Dr. Daniels (Therapist). Well, that or Vipassana.

I’ve fallen in love several times before. I’m not new to this. At 20, 24, 26, 28, 30. I missed 22 because of a relationship. Would have tied up my AP quite neatly.

You know the old routine… the idea of someone giving you butterflies in your tummy, being reminded of them when you see their favourite biscuit, or hear one of the songs that they once shared with you, sighing deeply every now and then. N/A for people currently infected with Coronavirus. I’m not going to be biased. You could get deep breaths caused by that intense-teenage-love feelings even if you’re infected. But, I digress. Anyone can fall in love. It’s free. Like punching a wall. With your head. (That’s why the butterflies… see what I did there!!)

But it’s different every time. It’s a different part of the head. You’ve already developed some numbness. You might even be carrying some scars from the previous time (Some call it baggage. I romanticized the term ‘scar’ for my own convenience long ago). And the expectations are different too when you’re 30, you know! You’ve been there, done that. Classified every person you’ve ever met into some or the other category ‘type’ (Ohh… you’re one of those!!). And then there’s one you probably can’t quite classify. And all that your brain wants to do with that scientific curiosity is to know the other person a little more, in a desperate attempt to eventually classify them.

And there’s the kicker. The more you know them, you can’t classify them. (In all honesty, had one taken the time to know the others previously classified, one might not be able to classify them either.) It’s the same concept when you make friends: “This is my person”; for no rhyme or reason.

And before you know it, you’re in too deep. If you’ve had a history of making messed up choices, congratulations! Welcome to the world of unrequited one way love again, which makes a part of your head feel like half your age. That’s one way of being 16 years old at heart.

But there’s the advantage of being 30. You’ve had plenty of scars, so this one hurts just a little less. (No it doesn’t. I’m lying. You just get used to it. Or not. Like periods.) You tackle these situations better every time because you’re experienced. You grow a little more; wiser beyond your years. You open yourself up sooner, because you still have hope. It’s just going to take a little time. Maybe a day, maybe a week, maybe a month or maybe six. But you deal with it. Not because that’s what is expected out of you. But because you know you’re better for it.

What’s a Romantic?

adjective

conducive to or characterized by the expression of love.

"a romantic candlelit dinner"

Most of us grew up with the above definition, always relating the term ‘romance’ to the idea of love, and love between a man and a woman no further (Let us be honest, most of us did not grow up with great sensitization or awareness of sexual fluidity, so I am not going to try to be politically correct or particularly inclusive here; I am just going to be downright honest.). Mummy and Papa hugging each other used to be romantic, candle light dinners in movies or books were romantic, Valentine’s day was romantic (just because the calendar said so) and Titanic was very very romantic.

It was during college that I took a course on Indian literature written in English that my definition of romance suddenly expanded. And I thank Tagore for this.

adjective

of, characterized by, or suggestive of an idealized view of reality.

"a romantic attitude to the past"

And just like that, suddenly, there was romance in stories beyond “love”. There was romance in rain, silence, and even colour. For me personally, a certain concept of purity, of un-adulteration, represented romance. It took me years to realize that absolute purity most often leads to vulnerability. It took me longer to accept that. And not long at all to realize it is really difficult to live with.

Can you imagine it? Can you imagine living in a bubble with no lies, no deceit, no manipulation, no pretence and no malice? Where you speak what is in your heart and your wear your heart on your sleeve? Where your passion is visible in your eyes? Because I cannot anymore. We have gone through our years seeing too much of ‘adulteration’. We have seen diplomacy, crime, greed, and ambition getting the better of people. You see these barrage of impurities and wonder how could something ‘pure’ even survive in this whirlwind of dirt. And then something happens, and you do not know how, but you know it does survive.

That slightly chilly breeze out of nowhere will still give you goose-bumps. That weirdly dramatized representation of friendship on a movie screen will still put half a tear in your eye. A whiff of a smell that reminds you of an old love will still fleetingly raise your hormones. Have you felt it? The passion in the eyes of a boxer while he shifts his entire body’s intensity into the one punch that he has trained for 15 years? The realization of absolute silence around you broken by the sudden rustle of the trees in the middle of the night? The expression of a person sleeping in their deepest rem cycle reflecting what they are dreaming about?

I will not be surprised if you feel it. It will be slightly different for you, like it is for each person. It is too strong a act for you to deny. You are a mere mortal. But if you acknowledge it, Congratulations, you are a romantic.

P.S.: I am a hard-core romantic. I would not just spend time acknowledging ‘romantic stuff’, but happily spend time day-dreaming or desiring these situations. Sorry (Not sorry!)! My favourite people are romantic. And you do not have to be able to put it in words, but if the beauty of purity makes your heart well up, then you are my best friend from now on.