What Romance Novels Have Taught Me About Love

Don’t tell anyone that I told you this, but —

I really love historical romance novels.

It feels a little embarrassing to admit. I have an English degree! I should like classics or modern fiction or something! But, the heart wants what the heart wants — and this heart loves sappy love stories set in vaguely 19th century England.

I gobble them up. I like to read them on my iPad, partially for the convenience,  and partially because that way I don’t have evidence of them lying around the house. I usually devour a book all in one sitting (or lying, I guess, since I am usually either on the couch or in bed), typically late at night, staying up until the wee hours of the morning to reach that inevitable happy ending.

That’s one of the things I love about them: there’s always a happy ending.

No matter what drama goes down over the course of the story, there is probably going to be an epilogue with a happily ever after and a baby. It’s inevitable. At least, in the kinds of series I like to read, it is; my favorites are the “sweet and clean” (yes, they’re really called that) ones that tend to start with a marriage of convenience, feature plenty of PG-13 safe make outs, and have some conveniently placed chapter breaks. It’s fine. I’d rather not have the Harlequin-style...imagery (once you’ve heard the word “flower” used in that context, you kind of wish you could bleach it from your brain). I’m perfectly content with the type of romance novel you’d be fine sharing with your mom or middle school niece.

Anyway, the series I’m into right now is by an author named Bree Wolf, which cleverly weaves all the books together by introducing friends and siblings and spinning off stories that all exist in the same universe. It’s like the MCU, but instead of superheroes they’re all nice people in Victorian-era London. Much less explosions, much more tea.  

While all the characters and their plot lines are much different, there is admittedly a formula to these types of books, and in this particular series it manifests as a marriage early in the book that either one character or the other is reluctant about, and unfolds as one or both of them come to realize that they actually are worthy of love, and learn to accept the affection shown to them.

And I think it’s this aspect that keeps me coming back, why I’ve sped through five of them and am glad there are more:

I love reading about these relationships where someone who feels unworthy of love finally, finally believes that they were wrong.

Because, if I were a character in one of these books, I know I’d be the reluctant one. Are you sure you want me? Am I really the right one? Do I actually deserve all of this affection and devotion? Am I worthy?

Sometimes I lie in bed after finishing one of these books, still thinking about the epilogue full of glowing couples, and wonder, will I ever have that? I know they’re fictional people, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling a tiny bit jealous of their happiness. Will I ever have that kind of warm, open, affectionate marriage? Am I worthy?

I think wrestling with that question is one of the most basic and universal parts of being human. We all just want to know that we’re worth being loved. And that we’re worth it not because of the things we’ve done, the awards we’ve earned, or the goals we’ve accomplished, but simply because of who we are.

It’s also one of the hardest things to learn as a human. If I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure I completely believe it yet. I want to. I want to know that I’m totally, completely, utterly worthy of love.

But it’s hard to feel worthy of love when you’ve never been in love, or never been in love with. It’s hard to feel worthy when you’re never chosen. It’s hard to feel worthy when someone tells a new couple “if anyone deserves love, it’s you,” and you wonder if somehow being single means you weren’t as deserving.

I know someone who periodically posts on Twitter the simple phrase “You are worthy of love.” No explanation, no context, no caveat, because none is needed. It’s a fact. Period. And every time I see it, it hits me like a punch in the gut, or a catch in the throat, because I always need to hear it. It’s easy for me to believe that other people inherently are worthy of love. Of course they are. But me? Specifically? I am worthy? That’s a concept that can be hard to wrap my mind around.

So I turn to these sweet and clean historical romances, and watch as the characters slowly accept their worthiness, and realize that they are enough, that they do deserve to be loved. I think about the fact that I am not alone in feeling this way, and that I can someday fully accept my worthiness, too.

And if it takes a titled Englishman with a townhouse in London to help accomplish it, I’m definitely not going to complain about it. 💜

What If My Relationship Status Never Changes?

Back in my day (I’m over 30 now, I’m officially allowed to use that phrase), not just anyone could have a Facebook profile. In the early 2000s you not only had to be a bona fide college student, with an active .edu email address, but your college had to be on the approved list of schools using the service. My school was pretty small and wasn’t on the list right away, but once we were approved, you can bet that everyone immediately set up their accounts with the perfect profile pic (selfie wasn’t really a word yet) and set their relationship status: single, in a relationship, or, because this was a site for college students, it’s complicated.

My first profile pic (we were still in the era of MySpace photos):

Around this same time, a movie came out that flopped with critics but would go on to become one of my favorites: Penelope, a fairy tale romance where a shaggy-haired James McAvoy falls for Christiana Ricci, a girl who was born with a pig nose as part of an old family curse.

Basically, the plot of the movie is that Penelope has to live as a “pig-faced girl” until someone of her own kind claims her as their own and the curse is broken. Her mother (wonderfully played by Catherine O’Hara) takes this to mean that she has to marry a fellow blue-blood, and starts matchmaking in hopes of finding a willing husband.

It doesn’t go well, obviously, and eventually Penelope gets fed up with the whole situation and runs away. Her parents (especially her mother) are distraught. At one point, her father worriedly says,

“We’ve spent so much time preparing her for the day when things would be different. We've never prepared her for the day that they're not.”

I think about this movie, and particularly this quote, more than the average person, I’m sure. Penelope had spent her entire life learning the skills and qualities that would make her a desirable wife, so that the curse could be broken. But what if she never found a husband? What if the curse was never broken? What if things never changed?

We recently watched this movie as party of my birthday month for our podcast, Viewing Party (you can listen to the whole episode here). My co-host Katie and I had a whole discussion about this particular quote, and why I think about it so much. To me, this line is so indicative of the way singleness is treated, especially in the church. We focus on marriage and families and how to prepare to succeed in those contexts, but we rarely hear how to succeed outside of them. Katie put it very well:

“We don’t spend enough time preparing ourselves for what [happens] if things don’t look different. How do you become content and peaceful and celebrate exactly what is instead of always looking for what isn’t?”

Facebook was designed so that the status could be changed, and that everyone would be notified when it did. Mine has been untouched since I first set it up, back in the day of Razr phones and endless loops of The Fray’s How to Save a Life. But what if my relationship status never changes? How do I celebrate what is instead of looking for what isn’t?

I’m not always good at it, if I’m being honest. I have days where I’m a lot more like Penelope’s mom, earnestly trying to find a cure so that I can finally live my best life instead of this insufficient one I’m dealing with right now. For a large part of this movie being single and unloveable is directly associated with being cursed, and there are definitely times where that feels true.

But it’s not true — and it is possible to celebrate exactly what is, right now. It’s not always easy, but it’s possible. When Penelope runs away, she finally goes and does all the things she’s put off doing before: she eats junk food, visits the street fair, goes to a pub, makes new friends. And eventually she realizes that she likes herself just the way she is, not the way that she could be when the curse is broken.

So here’s what I’m trying to do, and what you should do, too: Get out and do the things you’ve been putting off. Visit the places. Eat the things. Meet the people. Celebrate who you are right now.

Maybe things will be different someday. Maybe I’ll finally update that decade-old relationship status. Or maybe not — and that’s okay, even if it can be a bitter pill to swallow (and something I will talk about more in the upcoming post Will I Be Okay If I Never Get Married?). I’m not going to stop hoping that someday things could change. But I don’t want to miss out on celebrating my life if things don’t. 💜