During my early adolescence, I buried my nose in novels possessing covers of men with long flowing hair and women with heaving bosoms. The chastity of my earlier daydreams dissolved, replaced by Freudian euphemisms of swords and sheaths, but still the message remained - despite their innate abilities, women still need men to save them, and the greatest token of their esteem is the offer of marriage. We should be grateful for it.
Considering that, at the time, I was a member of the National Honor Society and wore braces and glasses - in a very small town, no less - I don't think any of the literary descriptions contained in those tomes would apply.
Consulting Miriam-Webster's online dictionary, I discover that romance is first defined as "a medieval tale based on legend, chivalric love and adventure, or the supernatural (2) : a prose narrative treating imaginary characters involved in events remote in time or place and usually heroic, adventurous, or mysterious (3) a: a love story, b: a class of such literature".
That most certainly applies to any number of fairy tales, books, movies and television shows, but once again, parallels very little in most everyday lives. Heroic is facing down the world's biggest spider (or in-laws) without flinching, and adventure is tackling the insurmountable mountain of work that always seems to appear each morning. Legends are constructed around stories of the brother who put a bowling ball through a wall, or sister who hid her green beans under her plate, while mysteries abound regarding missing game pieces, socks and the location of our spouse's lucky t-shirt (of which we claim ignorance even though it was 15 years old, faded and had more holes than material). It may not be Confederate soldiers, the CIA or a serial killer, but most of us would agree it's more than enough.
"Romance (v.) - an extravagant story or account that lacks basis in fact".
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