"Romeo and Juliet" by Dire Straits
A love story (from 2017) edited version published in LA Affairs (LA Times) May 2021
Today we scattered my mother-in-law’s ashes in the mountains where she grew up. Her daughter and one of her granddaughters used flowers to create an altar beside a tree for this woman who loved us all so well. It has been a good day, full of emotion. But the kids are young and move on quickly, so we are thinking about going to dinner when the love song “Romeo and Juliet” comes on the radio. Suddenly, there are tears coming down my face. My daughter is very confused.
“What’s wrong, Mom? Why are you crying now?”
I’m thinking about hearing this song many years ago.
One of my best friends in high school was a 6 foot tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed goddess. Her name was Kristen, but when “The Princess Bride” came out in theaters, people at school started calling her Buttercup. When Kristen went off to college, we kept in touch. In one of her letters she told me about one of her suitors who stood outside her window, strummed his guitar, and sang, “Romeo and Juliet” by Dire Straits. I was dumbfounded by his level of adoration. Who actually gets serenaded? That’s only for movies, right? I have to admit, I was jealous. I was 100% positive no one would ever sing anything like that to me.
When it came time for me to move out and go to college, I stuck with what I knew. I went from living in an extremely sheltered home with antiquated gender roles to attending an extremely sheltered college with antiquated gender roles. Most of the other students came from similar backgrounds and we were, for the most part, homogenous. Still, I managed to befriend and become roommates with someone who stood out. She was another supernatural beauty named Elaine. Like my friend Kristen, Elaine seemed to always have a gaggle of boys in her congregation, come to worship her ocean-like eyes and cotton sundresses.
During the semester we lived together, Elaine’s (incredibly hot) boyfriend made her mix tapes full of subtly romantic, eclectic music. Her favorite tape played often in our room and it included of course, “Romeo and Juliet”. What was the deal with this love song? I’d never heard it on the radio or mentioned by anyone. And yet it seemed to be an integral part of courtship for romantic, alternative college boys.
As an 18-year-old this is how I knew the world worked: There were beautiful girls with perfectly smooth legs and no acne. Those were the girls that the interesting and cute boys were attracted to. Since I didn’t look like they did, I was supposed to feel pretty disappointed in myself. I saw these stereotypes play out on television and movies we rented from Blockbuster. Short girls like me with brown hair and weird noses had to develop other characteristics if we wanted a happy-ever-after life. My best chance at romance was to be extra-super-nice and feminine. Learn to bake and be great at cheering on and encouraging the people I wanted to like me, males and females. The males probably wouldn’t like me, especially not the cute or charming ones, but I had to do these girl-appropriate things anyway so at least I wouldn’t be teased and have to eat lunch alone.
In the world I knew, cool boys who could play the guitar didn’t fall for average looking girls like me who were a little too loud and bossy. At that time, no boy had ever made me a mix tape. And for my generation, there was no clearer indication of affection than a carefully crafted mix of songs strung together on a cassette. In fact, I never had an official boyfriend throughout my college career. This was arguably the height of my earthly beauty and virility, and yet I felt neither beautiful nor loveable.
After school I went out into the real world and met a larger variety of people. I began to understand my true strengths, and my worth. I may not have a symmetrical face, but I am good at encouraging people and making them laugh! The more people I met and the larger my world became, the more I understood what I had to offer in relationships.
There was one week in November 2000 when I had dates lined up for every single night that week -- with five actual men! My confidence had reached a height heretofore unseen.
The week of dates didn’t go as planned, though. After my first date with Jeff on Sunday night I cancelled the rest of them and spent as much time as possible with him. By the end of the week I knew I would never go on another date again. (Just as I was getting good at them, too!)
A year later, I went on a hike with Jeff to the top of a hill in Elysian Park where he had not only written a love song for me, he had 4 musicians play and sing it for me in public as his surprise marriage proposal.
Since then, I have been a part of the most loving family I can imagine. They love me even when I don’t feel worthy of it. My old beliefs about beauty and hustling for affection are no longer valid. I’m no more or less lovable if my house is clean or if I’m in sweatpants watching Netflix in the middle of the day. It’s a revelation!
Jeff accepted my bossiness, my immaturity, my weird nose, and my borderline OCD. He didn’t care if I went to church or wrote thank you notes. He even encouraged me to cry in front of him instead of hiding when I felt emotional. He told me he wanted to be with me when I was sad.
This was a huge deal because I hadn’t cried in front of another person for as long as I could remember. Not ever. I had learned crying was weak and needy and frankly, pretty annoying. It scared the people who had to bear witness to your shame. (Crying at a movie was a little different because it wasn’t real life. But even then, I would wrap up the silent tears very quickly and move on.)
Now, here I am crying in front of my whole family! And my daughter is asking me why.
Hearing this song always makes me cry because it reminds me of those old insecurities. But, 18-year-old me wouldn’t even be able to imagine all of the love inside this car right now. I couldn’t have dreamed up a boyfriend like the one I married: the most romantic, unexpected Romeo I never knew I could love.
Also, I’m still a sucker for good love songs even if they are cheesy and surfacey. A song can’t accurately describe what Jeff and I have now, all these years later. We are growing old together, grieving the loss of his mom, raising children and figuring out all of the wonderful, hard parts of life. They don’t write many songs about this kind of love. No one would believe them.