Hopeless Romantic Meaning Novels & Stories

While I'm trying to be fast, I always end up daydreaming. You know, imagining prince charming would swoop to my rescue and take me into his palace, and then we will live happily ever after. Not. I wish everything would be as simple as that, though. Lena would always say that I am a hopeless romantic that’s why my first and only relationship didn’t work out because I was expecting too much.

She asked him. “No,” he dropped his eyes back to the notepad. “But I don’t like boyfriend,” it was muttered. “De facto?” She suggested. He grimaced. “So hippy.” She sighed out a breath and turned back to her page. “Fated mate?” “What the f–k is a fated mate?” He demanded. “What are we, dogs?” “It is a term they use in certain romance genres to describe a relationship between two people where destiny draws them irresistibly together.”

Moreover, she would rather experience hell with the man she loved and Big Joe wasn't that. For sure the man was kind and all but those feelings were null. Arianna saw him as a brother she never had and that my friend is not enough for marriage! Unfortunately, the man she loves was nowhere to be found, preferring to act in the shadows. Arianna sighed, rubbing her temple. She still had high hope of Elijah coming for her, but what if her hope was useless. She once heard a saying, "Hope is a slow poison. It's not just destined to kill you, it would torture your soul in installments, make you hallucinate that everything is going to be all right, and finally leaves you at the dead end."

Han's Point of View As I sat in the bustling coffee shop, sipping on my latte, I couldn't help but feel a pang of longing deep within my heart. Watching couples laugh, share tender moments, and exchange loving glances, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing in my life. The truth is, I've always been a hopeless romantic, longing for deep connection and soul-stirring love.

Her heart nearly stopped. “You’re successful now,” she said. “You have everything. Why would you want the same girl you left behind?” “Because I never stopped loving her.” The room felt suddenly smaller. Dangerous. Hope was a dangerous emotion for Evelyn. “I don’t believe you,” she said. “You don’t have to,” Lincoln replied. “But I’m not giving up this time.” Her chest tightened again. Every man she had dated after Lincoln had been an attempt to replace something that could never truly be replaced.

“They had a massive fight. She broke up with him. And he wouldn’t leave. Just sat there, in the rain, soaking wet, even as lightning struck nearby.” I scoff, shaking my head. “That’s not love, my darlings. That’s suicide.” Zalie rolls her eyes. “It’s called romantic devotion. Romeo romantic.” “No,” I retort firmly. “It’s called madness. Nobody should be willing to lose themselves in the name of love. What’s the point? He dies, and you move on. Or you die, and he moves on. Does he really expect you to dedicate your life to his grave? Never.”

“I cannot lose you, Irene.” The words landed hard. No conditions attached. No qualifications. No but. Just truth. Raw enough to bruise. I swallowed once, suddenly aware of how violently my heart was beating against my ribs. “I understand the terms now,” Romeo said quietly. “You refuse to be loved halfway. You refuse to live inside emotional quarantine conditions. I understand that.” Something in my chest twisted painfully. “You don’t want me as a romantic partner,” he continued. There it was. The surrender. Not strategic.

Our marriage had never been filled with lies—the truth had simply never existed between us. The video was still playing. I could hear "Oohs" and "Aahs." Someone urged Hera to share more details about their love story, "Tell us about the romantic things he did for you!" Romance? These people had no idea how dull Hera truly was. I had once poured effort into creating romantic moments. Each time, she showed less and less interest. Then, she told me she hated romance. These things were distractions. Illusions, even. An Awakenist valued only sincerity.

I warned. He held up his hands. “What? I’m saying maybe. Maybe is neutral.” “Maybe is dangerous.” “Maybe is hopeful.” Isabella lifted her hand high into the air like she was answering a question at school. “I vote for hopeful.” I put my hand over my face. “She doesn’t even know what that means.” Roman leaned back again, stroking Isabella’s hair. “I like hopeful.” I dropped my hand. “Guys… we just went through so much. The chaos of moving back and forth. And I’m not even mentioning the emotional trauma we’re all pretending we’re healed from.”

I promise that I will change that perspective after this date. Well, she does not like hearing that. But, that's what I see it as. “You have tried countless times and failed, why do you think this is going to be different?” I heard a voice ask. That was just my inner thought doing its work. It was showing me various ways in which I could see this. I was already hopeless. More of like a hopeless romantic. He was not wrong. I had tried and I had failed. But, will I stop and give up just because I have failed countless times?