I fancy myself quite a connoisseur of romance. I am a girl who has seen nearly every romantic comedy in existence, whose reading materials of choice consist of happily ever after type articles and books, and who is able to read a romantic undertone into nearly every song she hears. I suppose to say I am a romance connoisseur is an understatement; I am a love-junkie.

It can, and has been argued that the fine line between the real-life reality and expectation of romance, and the “fiction” type I hold on to seems to be a line I have blurred—possibly to an unrecognizable point. To put it simply, I think I might have a problem.

My name is Rory and I am addicted to romance. I am addicted to the idea of romance—the indestructible, all consuming passion for another person. I have fallen in love with every romantic gesture, declaration, and scene from every romantic comedy, I have swooned at every love song written, and I have melted with every romantic note or Hallmark card I’ve seen. I have used romantic comedies, sitcom relationships, happily ever after ending stories and love songs to develop my idea of love that is, well, completely and utterly unrealistic. Read More »