Love Story

I have always been a cynic when it comes to romance. My pessimism comes from a few different places, but my mother’s feminist ideology has possibly been a large contributor. Before I started preschool, she read to me everyday. The day she read “Snow White”, she paused mid-sentence on page two. “Snow White waited and waited, longing for Prince Charming to come and…save her.” She reluctantly continued on, but when she reached the last page, when Snow White gets on the white horse and gallops off into the sunset with her Prince, Mom decided a small rewrite was in order. “Although Prince Charming wanted Snow White to come away with him, she decided that she did not need a man to make her life complete. So instead, she went off to college, got her M.B.A., and lived independently and happily ever after…the end!” Needless to say, I was quite upset when I returned from my first day of preschool, having learned that Snow White did indeed marry Prince Charming.

When I reached my teenage years, I was still encouraged to be independent. “Don’t call him…you don’t need a boy in your life!” she would say. So a month ago, when I heard Taylor Swift’s latest song entitled “Love Story”, I laughed and rolled my eyes. The song is about the perfect love story—summer air, dancing at a ball, sneaking into a garden, falling in love, waiting, and then the prince returns with a ring in hand. A month ago, I could identify with certain parts of the love story. Meeting the perfect guy. Dancing in the summer. And waiting—not in a pathetic, wait by the phone way, but still waiting. That is the part I can identify with the most. In my past experience, the prince doesn’t come after all of your waiting. He sends a letter or a text message (or makes a phone call if he’s really classy) to say, “Sorry, but…”

This summer, while my best friend Courtney and I were lying on the beach, I remember half-jokingly saying, “True love doesn’t exist.”

But now, my cynicism is slowly fading. At the beginning of September, I decided to go on a date with someone I barely knew. I knew that he was an Obama-loving writer who was a freshman a UNC and had decent taste in music. While getting ready, I had already convinced myself that there wouldn’t be a second date. He is a freshman in college. This will never come close to working. However, by the end of the night, I was quite taken with David Hamrick. He had been a perfect gentleman; opening doors, paying for the meal, and looking me in the eye when I spoke. But there was something different about him—different from all the others. Over the next few weeks, he not only became my boyfriend, but my best friend. So far, I’ve learned that a true “love story” isn’t perfect. There are disagreements, off-nights, and bad hair days. My true love story was magnified last Friday night. David missed his first Halloween at UNC to drive three hours and be with me after I had an emergency appendectomy. While lying in a hospital bed, with no make-up and an I.V. in my arm, David held my hand, smiled, and said, “You are beautiful.” I’m convinced that he played a significant role in my recovery because being with him makes me stronger.

I have finally concluded that my mom, Taylor Swift, and I were all wrong. Love stories are rare, but they do exist. They are not always perfect and flawless, but they are real. And thankfully, they don’t require sacrificing any of a woman’s independent spirit. I have always been a cynic when it comes to romance. But now, I have a love story.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlbB7qt6v_0