Issue 17 – The Romance of Me, Myself & Iced Matcha
Or: Who Needs Prince Charming When You’ve Got Yourself?
I couldn’t help but wonder…
Do we actually need someone else to give us romance — or are we the ones writing the script already?
Because lately, I’ve realised: my life is somewhat a rom-com. Sure, the budget’s low, the cast is unreliable, and the soundtrack is mostly my liked songs on Spotify — but the main character? I mean, stunning.
Take the Lizzy Line. One iced matcha in hand, latest book I’m desperately trying to finish in the other, making accidental eye contact with a stranger who looks like he owns two cats and an enviable vinyl collection. In that moment, I’ve already pictured the flat we’ll share in East London. Reality check: he gets off at Whitechapel and I never see him again. But for those five stops? Pure cinema.
Or Sunday rituals. Birkenstocks on, Trader Joes tote bag slung, picking up a fresh loaf like I’m auditioning to play Julia in Motherland. Wandering through the market, secretly hoping I’ll bump into a gorgeous man with a cute dog… but mostly just ending up with an overpriced jar of honey and a £6 almond croissant. Iconic behaviour.
Then there’s the solo date era. A West End ticket (shoutout ClarksTown). Surrounded by couples, Oh the empty seat beside me? Not a sign of loneliness. That’s where my bag sits, my loyal companion.
Because,
I’m not alone. I’m on my own.
The truth is, the romance isn’t in who’s next to you. It’s in the rituals, the vibes, the little moments. The playlist that once broke your heart, but now makes you smile because you’ve outgrown the sting. The coffee order that feels like an affirmation. The head-tilt strut down the pavement that says: London, I’m here, and I look fabulous.
So yes, maybe I haven’t met the gorgeous matcha man with the sausage dog yet. But honestly? Between the Lizzy Line daydreams, the almond croissant Sundays, and the bag-seat theatre nights — I’m doing just fine.
Because sometimes, the great love story isn’t waiting at the end of the aisle.
Sometimes, it’s iced, matcha green, and sitting right in your own hand.
And just like that… the romance was already mine.