Hollywood is a place where they’ll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.
– Marilyn Monroe
I have a confession.
It’s something I’ve held to my chest for many years. I’ve tried to mask it with my cynical bravado and well-rehearsed Beyonce impersonations. But I cannot hide it anymore.
I, Lexi Rose am a die-hard romantic.
I’ve always been this way. As long as I can remember there has been a deep rooted desire that someday my Prince will come. This has served for an adolescence of disappointment and outright outrage that Walt Disney lied to me.
I think I always expected my life to play out like the movies. When I was 15, I argued with a boyfriend – just hours before I’m due to go abroad and then sat in a huff at the terminal. I glared at my Nokia 3210 which simply appeared to be refusing to allow any grovelling text messages or phone calls through. I was also secretly glancing sideways underneath my dramatic Elizabeth Taylor-esque sunglasses at the airport gate hoping my boyfriend would come running up to the glass and start banging on it shouting “LEXXIIIIII!!!!! I LOVE YOOOOOU!!!”
He never came. I sulked all week in Sardinia and promptly dumped him upon my return.
This notion has never left me. I sit there all the time watching black and white movies, convinced I should give all this work malarkey up and leave for Paris, sell the New York Herald Tribune on the side of the street waiting for Jean-Paul Belmondo to turn up and whisk me off on an adventure.
I’m still finding myself stranded in the middle of the night in central London in the pouring rain drunk and depressed waiting for the moment where the man of my dreams pulls up in a taxi and whisk me (and also my random ginger cat with no name) off into the sunset. That has yet only to happen to Audrey Hepburn. Although to be fair she was in New York and not waiting for the N87.
But I’m not Audrey. Or Marilyn, Ava nor do I have Betty Davies’ eyes.
Do I need to realise the world isn’t a romantic place and Hollywood is not real? Is romance is just a figment of our imaginations?
Although I don’t believe my completely over the top ideals of being swept off my feet will ever live up to expectation, I have learnt there is a good side to my constant disappointment in romance.
Just merely puts a record on and dances with you in the kitchen mid washing-up – it’s then you suddenly realise romance isn’t always that far away…