I've never been a hopeless romantic, though I often looked at lovestories with a feeling that bordered on the wistful. Are there really the roses-and-candlelight kind of lovestories? Or the rainbows-and-unicorns-and-pixie-dust kind? Perhaps there are, and perhaps there the other kind that is no less real for not having any of those. I do know that I enjoy romances though I'm not too sure that I like the overly sweet ones. I also know that experiences have made me much more cynical today than I was before. Perhaps the truth, as always, lies somewhere in between. (Hmm, does that make me a cynical romantic, or a romantic cynic?)

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