Hopeless romantic: A hopeless romantic is someone who very much believes in love, to the extent that it is often said they are in love with love. They also have a penchant for romantic actions both big and small. (This is my favorite definition from Yahoo! Answers.)
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I’ve stated that I am a hopeless romantic, have known in my heart that I am one, but have not backed it up quantitatively as one would be apt to do in order to prove to someone that you actually are what you say you are.
On campus, when I talk to students about having to substantiate data, I want them to offer statistical support that is based on fact and is viable. When we spoke of advertising today in class, we discussed the need to not only make a claim about a product or service, but to be able to back up what they say is true about a company, product, or service.
This led me to think about the claim I’ve put before you that I’m a hopeless romantic. It isn’t enough for me to just say I am one. I wanted to prove to myself that indeed every fiber of my being leans in that direction.
Therefore, I did what any normal, level-headed person wanting to prove a point would do. I took a quiz.
The 17-question quiz was entitled “Hopeless Romantic Test” and it was super easy to walk through it. If you are like me and want to know where you stand, you can take it by clicking HERE. The toughest part about the quiz is that you must be entirely honest or the test will not indicate the real “you.” Stay the course throughout it and answer truthfully.
I’m happy and proud to report that I was not at all surprised by the results.
I scored a whopping 96 out of 100. Therefore, I get an “A” in hopeless romanticism. I will add it to my resume.
Moreover, I feel quite certain that I have appropriately categorized myself. I can now be confident that my Twitter profile that includes “hopeless romantic” suits me just fine. I can continue to seek out books that focus on relationships to read. I can ball my eyes out when Meryl Streep goes to open the car door in the pouring rain as she sits with her husband in “The Bridges of Madison County,” ready to leave, but then reconsiders and stays in her marriage instead of running off with Clint Eastwood, her lover and soulmate. And additionally, I can move forward with trying to get my own novel, which focuses on a romantic interpersonal relationship, “reader ready” by Valentine’s Day.
The test proved it. I’ve been validated.
I am a hopeless romantic.