One of my favourite recent discoveries is Ann Liang's This Time It's Real, a refreshing Young Adult romance, set in modern-day Beijing. Upon opening the book, I immediately fell in love with the characters, the story premise, and just everything about Ann Liang's masterful way of weaving simple language to create something extraordinary. Similar to my favourite K-dramas and C-dramas, the slightly unrealistic "fake-dating a celebrity" trope doesn't take away from the realism and loveable imperfections of the characters, and much like a good Asian drama, the plot sweeps you off your feet, a delicious slice of escapism, while retaining the richness and nostalgia of real-life. If a sizzling summer romance conjures up the thoughts and atmosphere of a sunkissed beach, an iced, sparkling beverage in hand, then This Time It's Real would be the equivalent of spring, perfectly encompassing the delicate yet dainty beauty of spring flowers.
Eliza, the story's protagonist, is a high-schooler with a love of creative writing. When her (fictional) essay on her thoughts on love, romance, and experiences with her boyfriend goes viral, her life is flipped on its head. Spoiler alert: the boyfriend does not exist, but much to her dismay, the entire Chinese social media community seems to think so.
I heavily related to Eliza's character, and her optimistic, hopeful, almost romantic view of life was contagious. In a way, she reminded me of one of my all-time favourite characters: Lara Jean from Jenny Han's To All The Boys I've Loved Before. Whether it's their multicultural, East-Asian diaspora identities, their relationships with their sisters or even just the way they're both in love with the idea of love, there's something so comforting and familiar about their characters, as if we were childhood friends. It may not go viral, and most definitely won't land me a fake, C-drama actor boyfriend, but without further ado, here's my take on Eliza's famous essay, a love-letter to love.
A Lesson On Love
By Nicola Pak
As a generation, today's youth are growing increasingly disillusioned with love. With the climate crisis, pandemic and political unrest, our cynical views on worldly affairs are translating over to the way we see day-to-day life, whether it's friendships, relationships, or life in general. We view love as an abstract concept, something that belongs in Meg Ryan movies, or the happy endings in the Disney movies we grew up watching, but not many of us imagine these fairytale endings for ourselves.
This could be the reason why we work so hard in pursuit of it. Dating apps are all the rage, as young adults take on the artificial, algorithm-generated hamster wheel in hopes of finding the perfect connection. Whenever I prowl through Reddit, I encounter thread after thread dedicated to the trials and tribulations of twenty-first-century romance (this does not just apply to Reddit; Twitter, Quora, and Craigslist Missed Connections will tell you the same thing). Don't even get me started on modern pop music. Scroll through the Billboard Top 100; you'll find that over half of the songs involve some form of crooning about love, whether it's celebrating or condemning it. My music taste, which is anything on the spectrum between Taylor Swift and Stray Kids, perfectly reflects this too: Spotify shuffle-play constantly ping-pongs between loving love and hating love. One minute, I'm dancing to a sugary sweet song about finding one's chemical Hype Boy, the next, I'm passionately screeching my heart out to Conan Gray's Checkmate, a song that is the literal anthem of post-breakup revenge.
In Middle School, I was a hopeless romantic. I wouldn't say that this mindset was completely the product of childhood naivete, but rather, a certain manifestation of joie de vivre, my blithely optimistic life view crossing over to my beliefs about love. My naive eleven-year-old self was convinced that I would have the character arc of the quintessential Wattpad main character. Whether it was having a boyfriend, undergoing a drastic 'glow-up' makeover or being whisked away in a horse-drawn carriage to prom, I was dead-set on living out every trope to ever grace the pages of Young Adult fiction. To me, this was the clear-cut path to happiness.
Now, as a slightly jaded, mildly burnt-out sixteen-year-old, I can say with relative disappointment that there is in fact no Fairy Godmother in real life. The flawless love I had in mind was just that: a fanciful daydream. Now, I'm not saying that love doesn't exist, and this isn't me telling you, dearest reader, to go arson the Tinder headquarters or ruin every wedding within a three-kilometre radius, but rather the idea that we as a society need to reconsider how we see love.
Love, first and foremost, isn't a cure-all. There's no such thing as a happily-ever-after without hard work, no Prince Charming is going to solve all of your life problems. Some people see relationships as a form of solace from everyday life. They expect that the perfect soulmate will magically materialise in front of them one fateful day, someone who perfectly completes them, like two halves of a whole, that fit together as seamlessly as a jigsaw puzzle. Real life isn't that easy.
I had an extremely insightful chat with a good friend about this recently, and what really stood out to me was when she said something along the lines of "People are complete on their own, and if they feel incomplete then having a relationship would only amplify the emptiness". Even in my school, some date for the sake of dating, in order to feel fulfilled and validated, but these couples never last long, their relationships as ephemeral as a social media trend. To further develop this point, my friend added that people who look towards love as a blanket solution will only be disappointed. In her words, "These people will get into unsatisfying relationships, and wonder what went wrong and why they're unhappy when love is supposed to solve everything."
As she's someone who's in a healthy, committed relationship, whereas I'm blissfully unattached, it was really interesting to see how much our views aligned, despite our differing situations. To some extent, her firsthand experience helped to fortify her view, the personal element adding depth and dimension to her well-articulated mindset. Another impactful thing she mentioned was the idea of how idealising a person is unfair to them because you will inevitably set unattainable expectations, and feel surprised when they have flaws. That could be why, for instance, there are often uproar and extreme backlash when a celebrity scandal hits the media. When loyal fans discover that their faves aren't the people that they initially thought they were, they feel blindsided and disappointed, almost betrayed on a personal level. The same applies to holding someone on a high pedestal, and expecting them to be flawless: it's unrealistic and unattainable.
But that isn't to say that love is dead and that finding soulmates is a pipe dream. A line that really stuck with me from an article I read was that soulmate isn't meant to complete you but should be the catalyst that encourages you to complete yourself. A soulmate is someone who sees your flaws and loves you despite them, rather than being blind to your faults. We don't need to stop searching completely, we just need to alter our mindsets and approaches when doing so.
"Won't you feel awfully lonely? Why are you so bitter?" Don't get me wrong, I'm not some kind of heartless robot. I still love the idea of love. Emily Henry's People We Meet On Vacation has a special place on my bookshelf. Jenny Han's To All the Boys I've Loved Before has a special place in my heart. Whether it's the saccharine-sweet verses of a WooAh! song, or the lyrical triumph that is Taylor Swift's entire discography, love has also overrun my headphones. For Valentine's Day this year, I woke up with the unbridled eager anticipation of a child on Christmas morning: not because I was expecting chocolates or flowers, but because I love the festive atmosphere. The Stray Kids Valentine's Special live stream was an additional bonus.
At the end of the day? Sure, it would be fun to go on dates or share a connection with someone who feels deeply for you. But I'm not going to change the way I live now, blindly pursuing something that can't be chased. Some of my friends have really blossomed as a result of their relationships, becoming the happiest versions of themselves. Some of my friends have learned to step back and take a break, realising later on that perhaps they aren't in the right emotional state or maturity to handle a committed relationship. Their relationship status doesn't change their fundamental personality traits, and they're still the people I know and love. And to really drive that point home, repeat after me: a relationship doesn't define who you are, whereas your character shapes and transforms your relationships.
And one last takeaway which I'd like to add: love doesn't have to be romantic. The Greek language has words for four main types of love: Philia, Eros, Storge and Agape. Eros may be the kind we're most used to, the type of intense passion found in romantic relationships, but that isn't to say that Philia (strong, unbreakable friendship), Storge (deep, familial love) and Agape (love that's unconditional and selfless) aren't equally important. To me, I’m immensely grateful for the people in my life, who care for me in thousands of different selfless ways. Even when the majority of my closest friends are in relationships, I don’t feel any less worthy or any more lonely than they do, and this can be attributed to the strong support network that I am incredibly blessed to have. Love isn’t just a red rose bouquet, a heart-shaped box of Valentine’s chocolates, or an engagement ring. Love takes many different shapes and forms, whether it’s a thoughtful message from your parents reminding you to stay hydrated and eat well, or an inside joke shared with your closest mates or even smiles exchanged on the subway between complete strangers.
I think that's the beauty of love, the essence of what it truly is. It lights up your life, painting your every day in vivid hues, amplifying the light and illuminating the dark. It's the hope, that no matter how tough life is, things will get better. After this revelation, I stopped calling myself a hopeless romantic, no longer as dependent or fixated on the notion of an all-consuming relationship. Hopelessness doesn't culminate in opportunity. Becoming the best version of yourself, thanks to the support and encouragement of your loved ones, does. So from now on, you can call me a hopeful romantic.