In defense of romance novels
I am 18 and I never had a crush.
It’s a lie when I am desperately lonely, but it’s the truth when I let myself be honest on rare occasions. To grow up around a million conversations born out of kilig is to realize that to not relate is rather atypical for a teenager. So while my peers pine for one another, I secretly paired myself with romance books—guilty and ashamed that I’ve been indulging in fictional happy endings.
See, I have been led to believe that pain is more profound. For so long, I’ve thought that happy endings are just figments of imagination reserved for people who do not understand how the world works. At 15, when one of my teachers told us to write a love story, I wrote a tragedy. I created two people who fell helplessly in love with each other, only for one of them to be taken away by death. I was so proud of it back then, but now, all I do is grieve that I didn’t know better.
I was afraid to hop on the romance train because I was also afraid that I might enjoy it. Somehow, that was worse, because then, I had to entertain the idea that I wanted it to happen in my life. It was an embarrassing thought because I was not supposed to mush into a puddle of cringe-inducing yet sweet confessions of love. For me, indulging in it was a symbol of defeat and surrender to the teenage angst I proudly wore on my sleeve.
Why did I deprive myself of happiness, even if it’s only in stories of make-believe? Why didn’t I let myself pretend, even just for a couple of pages, that someone was capable of loving me? It came down to this: to read romance books is to crave affection the way it has never been given to me. It is to admit to myself that my well-protected solitude and “strength” have turned to loneliness.
I did not understand the merit of romance books, but now, I think I do. They are seen as predictable, formulaic, tropey, and not as intellectually stimulating as other books. While it is true for most books I’ve read in the genre, it should not undermine the fact that one can experience uninhibited joy in it. It delves deeper into a feeling we long for when life gets rough. It is admitting that the earth has sharp edges, but believing that there is a softer side of it. It knits a common thread of people’s desire to be loved and accepted, despite knowing reasons that make it seem harder to.
And while the plot progression centers on the characters falling in love, it is not all that there is. It has shown me the different ways that love can exist outside of romance. For times I cannot even begin to count, I have fallen in love with a character’s journey of loving themselves and knowing their worth above all. I have been forever touched by the power of familial love that I have been too shy to express to my own family. I have been made strong and confident of a fictional friend’s platonic love and wisdom.
There are great things born out of love, however it might be presented. When written right, reading romance can be a cathartic experience, too. Because of it, I have come to understand that growing up is not only coming face to face with the world’s ability to be cruel but also inevitably wanting to believe that there is love despite it.
However, what do I know of love if I haven’t even had a crush? How can I understand if I’m only 18 and only on the cusp of adulthood? The answer came when I finally stopped lying to myself. The want to be loved is not something to be ashamed of. Like the heart that beats every fraction of a second, it is living proof that we are humans craving affection; but more so that we are capable of it!
Maybe I will or won’t fall in love. I know that either way is completely and utterly okay. I now know things that will remain constant. It comforts me to think that I have people who try to love me despite everything. There is no reason for me to believe that the reservoir of love is drained and depleted. I feel it when my best friend’s hand lands on my shoulder. I feel it when my brother cracks a joke or when my mom surprises me with clothes from thrift shops. And so for them, but most especially for me, I’ll try to be like a dog, however ridiculous that may sound. I’ll chew and devour romance books with guiltless pleasure. I’ll trust the world and its people with my belly and let them tickle me with love and affection. I will try as I’ve tried yesterday and the days before that.
After all, at the end of the day, all we want is to be touched by the tenderness that is love.
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Audrey Dominique Cardinoza, 18, is an incoming community development freshman at the University of the Philippines Diliman. She spends her time listening to Taylor Swift, creating the playlists of her life, reading books, writing, and watching but never completing TV series.
