For the first time in my scholastic career, my life seemed to align with the storyline of a book. In class last week, we read William Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” which includes the quintessential “driven mad with love” character, Helena. Helena pines relentlessly after Demetrius, who threatens to leave her in the woods because he does not reciprocate her feelings.
My professor posed the following question to the class: Do the play’s themes still hold true today? “Comedic” elements and long-winded soliloquies aside, Shakespeare seems to have had his finger on the pulse of something that’s still relevant. Centuries later, we still beg the questions, “Do we want what we can’t have?” and, “What happens when we get it?”
I believe there is something to be said about going after something you know you can’t have, whether it’s a person or a whole pint of ice cream. Or two. This pursuit, however, has the potential of turning into something bad, as the “chase” can turn into a never-ending marathon of unanswered texts and unreciprocated feelings. I believe that it is inevitable to want what we can’t have, but we have to proceed with caution so as to not get swept away with the thought of unrequited love or the infatuation that can follow.
I’m sorry to spoil a play written hundreds of years ago, but Helena, with the help of a love potion, is able to live in harmony with her love Demetrius. What do you do when you’re in pursuit of something you want and, instead of being met with hatred or malice like our dear Shakespearian character, you are met with kindness and civility instead?
In my experience, this is met with extreme caution and even more extreme text editing. In order to not lose the thing you’ve been chasing, every message sent is perfectly concocted and timed, and then stressed about afterward. When it comes to the “chase,” every move is made cautiously, to avoid making the wrong move. Thanks to my inability to communicate my feelings properly and my overactive sense of humor, I send the wrong message 70 percent of the time.
There is something to be said for the rush of excitement that comes when you receive a text after what seems like a year, or when you text them first just to see how they’re doing. This practice can become convoluted, though, especially when you don’t want to respond too quickly and seem eager. I think am guilty of this. This can lead to the inevitability of self-interrogation as you try to make sense of why the other person didn’t respond in that second.
Did I use correct grammar or spelling? Did I try to be funny and fail? Am I annoying?
The last one hits harder than the other two, as I feel as though I teeter on annoying with every text I send. When you finally have a small grasp on something you want, it’s so rare that you do everything you can to keep it. This fear leads to a cycle of Socratic questioning as you question every text you draft, every Snapchat and every emotion-filled tweet you send into the world. This is where the analytical skills I’ve learned reading Shakespeare come into play, as I analyze every message with the same scrutiny I would a piece written by the Bard himself.
The romantic world is filled with many ups and downs, and the “chase” of someone you want is no exception. It is elation when they respond to your text, even if it’s about a celebratory test grade, and it’s also small frustration when your cute selfie goes unnoticed. We have made it harder to communicate with the introduction of social media, and through this, we have made multiple channels for interpreting messages. This makes the “chase” much harder because of all the different platforms we can receive messages on.
I take solace in the fact that we have the same problems today as those who lived hundreds of years ago, with the exception of having a life expectancy of 30 and living in fear of un-ironically being called a witch. I believe there is something to be said about writing on problems Shakespeare wrote about so long ago. No one has got it figured out yet, anyway.
Meredith loves telling stories and pretending to be Carrie Bradshaw, minus the man and comfy NYC apartment. She, however, eats enough brunch to cover all six seasons. When she's not drowning in 16th-century literature, she can be found lamenting over the bad grammar and bad boys in her middle school diary.
Find her on twitter @merewilsh or email her mwilsher@bu.edu with all your love musings or questions.
