In the first story of Wong Kar-Wai’s Chungking Express, He Qiwu (played by Takeshi Kaneshiro) decides to fall in love with the next woman to walk into the bar, in an effort to get over his now ex-girlfriend.

I smiled as I watched this tonight. Only earlier in the day, I had loquaciously suggested to my friend that I just start saying “yes” to any and every person that comes along. Later that evening, swimming laps in the pool (I do a lot of thinking there) I began to seriously consider such a prospect.

After all, romance, that ludicrous modern invention – what good has it been to me? My friend points an accusing finger at films like The Notebook for making her so neurotically demanding of her boyfriend. John Safran wailed in an episode of Race Relations that when it came to relationships nothing was turning out like all those earnest, indie/arthouse flicks had promised. Another friend blames shows like Sex and the City for “the apparent rash of weirdly picky, crazy-analytical single women out there”.

Previously I’ve said that there was only one true explanation for why, at 26, I’ve never been in a relationship. Bad luck. End of story. But lately I’ve begun to wonder if my 26 year diet of rich, heart-wrenching novels, music and films has actually messed me up a little. As another friend says, romantic love is just a 19th century Western fabrication. And these days we put far too much pressure on partners to fulfill us in ways that no one person could possibly do.

So maybe I should stop seeing romantic love as my saviour, as some sort of unattainable shining, diamond, as the highest spiritual plane, as life’s grandest ecstasy, etc. because perhaps romantic love is more like, more like …

Eating apples. (Go with me here).

For almost all my life, I haven’t eaten fruit. From young, I just refused to eat oranges, grapes, apples, melons, pears etc. My family used to tease me about it all the time. They’d devour juicy, sweet oranges and ask me incredulously, “how can you not like this?” Every single evening the fruit was taken out out of the fridge, cut up and shared around, I’d stubbornly refuse because I just ‘knew’ I didn’t like it.

But in 2009, I decided I would start eating fruit. It started with grapes. Although the taste and texture was unnatural to me, I forced myself to eat it, on a regular basis, and soon discovered, hey this isn’t too bad! Soon I was eating grapes all the bloody time. It wasn’t long before all the other fruits followed suit.

Similarly, until now I’ve just accepted that I’m not the “type” to date, or have casual relationships. Friends would tell me that I’m single through no fault of my own, but because I’m not willing to settle for the ‘wrong person’, and one day the right person will come along and it’ll all happen. You know, just like in the movies.

But maybe, in fact, a romantic relationship is something that you can “make happen”. As horrible as that sounds. Well, maybe real love – love in reality, rather than from the movies – is a little bit horrible. A little bit cardboard, a little bit ordinary.

Sure, I can continue living my life as a singleton. Just like in the case of fruit, I’m not going to die without romantic love. In fact I’ll probably still lead a perfectly healthy, normal life. On the other hand, a helluva lot of people seem to be enjoying it, and taking pleasure from it, and making me feel a little like I’m missing out (fruit, and partners).

So perhaps I should just give it a go. Even if it feels unnatural at first, I can grow to love it. After all, just two years ago I wouldn’t have touched a raw apple with a ten foot pole. And now look at me! I’m the biggest apple fan there is.