I've been called an old soul more than once, more than a dozen times actually. And what does that mean exactly? Does that mean that I am boring, or that I am actually living my life as an old person might?

I used to joke that I have two settings, a 5-year-old child and a 75-year-old man. Sometimes I am laying on the living room floor coloring or getting excited about how long I can hula hoop for, and other times I am perusing through antique stores, reading Yates and sipping on whiskey straight.

For a long time, throughout high school mostly I pretended that I wasn't the old-soul poetry writing girl I really was. I tried out for cheerleading and tried to get the attention of a football player. I didn't tell people that for fun I wrote. The older I got, the more I turned to my true self, and it certainty didn't hurt when that aforementioned football player told me that writing was kind of sexy.

For me, being an old soul meant simply that I was mature, that I preferred the company of adults to kids my own age most of the time, that I loved searching and holding pieces of treasures that were once held by people in simpler times, that I longed for hand-written letters and that I was undeniably a romantic.

This doesn't mean that I boycotted technology (except for maybe the Kindle) or refused to party in College and drink cheap beer. I did those things, I just didn't enjoy them quite as much as I enjoy cozying up with a glass of red wine and choosing a book off my bookshelf to read.

But romance has always been a struggle. I suppose the term reads differently across people's opinions. Maybe it means going to dinner, or receiving flowers, maybe it is in the small acts like saying I love you or asking how each other's days are. For me, it is all encompassing. If I could go back to the Victorian era and writer letters tied with twine, and secretly hold hands taking a stroll along a crowded beach, I would. And sure, I have had lovely relationships and an even more endearing one now, but it hasn't been simple. I am not simple.

I am the girl that wax seals the letters she sends out. I have four old typewriters in my house. I cry at how beautiful the night sky is when it is lit up with stars. When men, not typically driven by romance, see a girl cry because something is pretty or stunning, they don't really know what to do.

I went out with dates I met on an online app, and receive Facebook notifications on my birthday instead of cards. I've gotten "kissed" by an emoji instead of in person. I've been jealous by the amount of "likes" another woman has. And it is not me.

It makes me sad the lack of communication men and woman have with one another today. I did meet my current boyfriend in a bar, but he talked of Hunter S. Thompson on the night I met him, he picked me up, opened doors, and took me to a lovely dinner for our first date. He compliments my eyes in certain light and wraps me up in the softest blanket when I'm cold. And of course I am not against or opposed to social media, but I make sure to leave handwritten drawings and notes in secret places for him around the house. I buy myself flowers to warm up the ambiance of the kitchen. I keep myself in tune with current events, but love to reach for Edgar Allan Poe or John Keats.

So what does the modern world of love mean for an old soul like me? It is a reminder to not turn my nose up to change, but also to stay rooted to myself. To remain excitable about choosing a new pen, to laugh at home made cards sprinkled with corny puns, to love unconditionally and without boundaries or nuisany surrounding technology.

For you my dear, I will type passionate words on a typewriter and I will take a selfie with you of us as deer on Snapchat.

Just as a 75-year-old man, and a 5-year-old child might do.