Romeo and Juliette never worked for me. Deep and tragic just doesn’t make for a romantic ideal I can aspire to. The most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me is put my bed together on moving day while I ran around directing the movers, but then my idea of romance is fussing over who is going to do the dishes. This cultural appreciation for the doomed romance is kind of a cop out for a culture with a short attention span.
Take Bonnie and Clyde. As much as I like the Beyonce / Jay-Z song, it is a terrible model for true love. We run around claiming our independence and reckless youth by shooting banks up and die together in a volley of gunfire. Um. Ouch? If they had survived, how long do you think the relationship would have lasted? Situations like that have to burn themselves out, there’s not enough fuel between them for any more than a lit match.
I’ll die for you only sounds like a meaningful sacrifice. Trust me. Living with someone is the harder path. Going to bed with someone you want to choke out and waking up to choose that person all over again… write me an iconic play about that, thanks. The love I’m interested in burns like the town on fire in Pennsylvania. Not particularly dramatic at the beginning, but once it’s lit, nothing is ever going to be the same.