. . . . . . . I love True Romantics. They haven’t been burnt out by life, something that gets easier with the passing decades.

. . . . . . . The True Romantic husbands a shard of innocence in his heart, a crystal that chimes with the resonant emotional moment. The True Romantic — his eyes a wandering pair of fires — seeks out the True Romantic like him with great avidity.

. . . . . . . Life becomes a playground for such a one.

. . . . . . . As late-night TV host David Letterman once said, I may have grown up, but I never grew old.

. . . . . . . There are “old souls” who are prematurely crispy-cluttered even as children or teens. They’re like the Michael J. Fox character on the show Family Ties. Dressing in a business suit, carrying a grown-up’s briefcase, eager to burn out before the burnout actually has to happen.

. . . . . . . Catxman looks like he’s in his early twenties because he is a True Romantic.

. . . . . . . Feelings should be regarded as an aid to the good life — a fuller expansion of the experiences we undergo — but used sparingly underneath reason as the linchpin for problem-solving. The True Romantic, for instance, lives his life for the natural “highs” he gets. But he is sparing with his company, lest others steal away his mojo.

. . . . . . . I don’t take shit, but I don’t suffer from bad stuff that happens to me. The True Romantic in me keeps my head held high.

. . . . . . . The Quentin Tarantino film “True Romance” was more about my definition of True Romance than the Harlequin Romance Books version. In it, the couple on the run faces up to life with an unsullied expression and a free heart. They are linked to their inner selves.

. . . . . . . True Romance is all about that link between the outer existence and the inner world. It is a science-fiction beanstalk elevator to orbit shuttling goods back and forth.

. . . . . . . The True Romantic perseveres and prevents the world from blockading him. Like the Bobby McFerrin “Don’t Worry Be Happy” the True Romantic basks in his own happiness.

. . . . . . . For him, nightfall is not a thing to be feared. He has a place to sleep, and even if he didn’t he would find a peaceful corner somewhere and have sweet dreams. The True Romantic’s nightmares are relatively minor, and he always confronts the Monster that lies within. The True Romantic’s nights are as long as his days. He goes out to party at night, even at an age when he “should be” doing something else.

. . . . . . . His nighttime wanderings take him past parked car and crouching cat. His nighttime explorations move him from place to place with the authority of an owner. It is at night that the True Romantic most feels he owns the world.

. . . . . . . Or that the world owes him something.

. . . . . . . In the end, my lovelies *smiling sweetly* THE TRUE ROMANTIC IS IN YOU TO BE DISCOVERED.

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