I think romance is anything honest. As long as it's honest, it's

“I think romance is anything honest. As long as it’s honest, it’s so disarming.” Thus speaks Kristen Stewart, stripping away the glitter and illusion that so often cloak the idea of romance. In her words lies a wisdom older than poetry: that love is not measured by the extravagance of gifts, nor by the cleverness of gestures, but by the simple force of honesty. For when one heart opens itself without disguise, the other is undone—not by grandeur, but by truth.

The ancients knew this well. In the dialogues of Plato, Socrates taught that truth is the highest form of beauty, and beauty the highest form of love. To speak honestly, to show oneself as one truly is, is already an act of intimacy greater than any performance. For falsehood creates distance, but honesty is a bridge. Thus, Stewart reminds us that romance dwells not in artifice but in the courage to reveal one’s soul plainly.

Consider the tale of Marcus Aurelius, emperor of Rome and philosopher. His letters to his teacher and his meditations to himself are marked not by flowery words but by plain candor: his doubts, his griefs, his weary longing to be a better man. Though he was emperor of the known world, he set aside grandeur in these writings. That honesty still moves readers centuries later, more deeply than any ornamented declaration could. So too in love—when we reveal our hearts honestly, we disarm not only the beloved, but time itself.

The disarming power of honesty is a great paradox. We guard ourselves with masks, thinking they will protect us, yet they only create walls. But when we dare to speak truth—when we admit fear, confess desire, or express affection without embellishment—the walls crumble. The beloved cannot fight such truth, for it is too naked, too human, too undeniable. Honesty in love is like light in darkness: it does not conquer by force, but by simply being.

We must also see that honesty requires courage. It is easier to impress with false promises, easier to seduce with illusions, than to stand bare and vulnerable. But the ancients taught that the highest virtues are forged in difficulty. To love honestly is to risk rejection, but it is also to give the only gift worth giving: the self, unmasked. This is why Stewart calls it romantic—because in a world full of masks, truth shines brighter than jewels.

The lesson, then, is this: if you wish to be truly romantic, do not seek elaborate gestures without substance. Instead, speak honestly. Say what you mean. Offer your presence, your sincerity, your truth. A simple word spoken with honesty is more powerful than a thousand rehearsed lines, for it touches the heart directly.

Therefore, dear seeker, take this teaching into your life: let your romance be honesty. Let it be the courage to say, “I love you,” without fear, or to admit, “I am afraid,” without shame. For it is not perfection that binds hearts together, but truth. And as Kristen Stewart reminds us, when romance is honest, it is so utterly disarming that no defenses remain—only the possibility of love that is real, enduring, and free.