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The Art of Romance

  • Writer: allymmmounga
    allymmmounga
  • Jun 28, 2021
  • 4 min read

Updated: Jul 7, 2021




Affection. Adoration. Romance. It's magic and intoxicating.


Instinctively, we bite into lush, plump fruits and call it eating. Instinctively, we build empires, sandcastles, and towers with colorful foam cubes in our Kindergarten classes. And instinctively, we make love, but we do not always instinctively romance.



The art of charming


A love match is made through a whole lot of cosmic alignments. First, there's attraction--to character, to form, to movement, and to energy. The character portion relies on one's personality, charisma, timing, and ability to charm with words. Form is physical--a magnetism created by the lure of one's shape, color, vitality. A person's movement encompasses their actions. How do they personally live, eat, carry themselves, and then, initially, how do they act upon you? Energetically, two comets collide when they feel a draw to each other's invisible qualities. It can't be explained by language. There's just a wave of something in the air between them.


The art of charming is the art of acknowledging, refining and exemplifying one's own character, form, movement, and energy. To charm is to subtly place your winning smile, best dress, truest nature, and delicacies before whomever you hope to romance. It's a beautiful expression of admiration for another through appreciation of the self. To charm is to know your best qualities, to love them, and then, to put them on the table.



The art of writing love letters


Love letters are tokens given to love fallers, as gifts to be kept and remembered often or in moments of great and hardy feelings. They are doting expressions of adoration. They are confessions of love. You know those circular tins of shortbread cookies that your mom and grandma always get at Christmas? I have cookie tins filled to the brim with love letters, some given, some received. Because they are often my first confession of love. If someone were trying to figure out whether or not I'd fallen for them, they would know clearly Yes if they'd received a little love note and No or Not Yet if they hadn't. If I'm in love, I want to receive reminders of and declarations from my fella. And I want to give him a thousand more.


There are a few different kinds of love letters to me. The first is normally something little like a receipt from somewhere we've gone together with something little like, "Your hair is cute," written on the back. Or after we've been out a whole bunch of times, I'll joke and write something on the receipt like, "You're kinda cute, call me," with my phone number at the end.


A little while later, the letters get more personal. They're notes, like, "You were in my dream last night. We were in a gas station in the middle of the night to get out of the rain after a little adventure. The sky was a lake blue-green, and we couldn't seem to stop laughing about everything."


Those are soft confessions of love that say, "I'm into you," and "I think about you enough that my mind goes back when I fall asleep." But they aren't outright confessions. Those take longer. They come with affections, red lipped kisses to seal the envelopes, X's and O's at the bottoms. Between the folds of paper, I send gifts of little flower petals that I've collected or cute doodles. And they are full and full and full of adoring remarks.


"I love the way you look over at me and smile when you're driving."


"I love how you squeeze my leg."


"I love your hair when it's messy."


"I love your hair when it's done."


"I love the way you laugh when you're friends are around."


"I love how you dish my plate when we're out to eat."


"I love how close you are with your siblings."


"I love the noises that you make when you're sleepy."


"I love how you can't hide your emotions. They always show on your face and in the way that you breathe when you're mad, disappointed, and desirous."


"I love how you pick me up and spin me around every time you see me."


Those are falling in love letters, and I love them. But in love letters are definitely my favorite. They get into plans. They're almost like little manifestos, wishes on paper that get shared with lovers. I find that love letters say love just as often as the, and, or, and all the other little connector words. Love is essential. So, I start with a love name:


Baby,


This weekend won't seem to leave my mind. All I can think about while I wash the dog, fold my laundry, and have a bit of down time at work is our little lake day. I love your swim trunks. They're cute. You're cute. I'm in love with the idea of having sandy feets on the shore, sharing a paddleboard, trying to sink you in the water even though I know I'll end up being the one falling in. How about we cut a watermelon to take up and grill some hangubbers? Ruby and John said that they've got drinks. I love you. I'm so excited. I love you. I love you. I love you.


xoxo

Ally Mia



The art of touch


To be in a room with someone is to transfer energy, to share their way of life, their emotions, their essence. To touch is that times a thousand. It's wild and connective, and that's why we love it. That's why we want it with people that we adore and crave closeness with. Touch is expressive and intimate. It's reserved for romance, and because of that, heightened. When you put your hand on top of a friend's or give them a hug, it's a soft, yellow kind of warmth. But when you brush shoulders with someone you pine for, it's electric, striking, enough to widen your eyes and make you bug out for a minute. Touch is like lightning at first.


It's like lightning if it's with someone magnetic, wild and naturally unruly. There's nothing like the feeling of looking up at someone and having this urge to crash your lips into theirs. There's nothing like vining your fingers down their back and feeling them tremble a little. Touch is magic. The art of it, the mastery is in giving into the wild nature of it, letting your instincts guide you. Releasing your inhibitions and moving confidently with hunger and a lack of thought.





 
 
 

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