So I attached myself to a few key relationships in people that I saw, and put all of my faith in them. If they could make it a long, long time together, and still be happy, then True Love HAD to still exist in the real world.
Then we find out: They're not happy. They're separating, getting a divorce.
I was twenty-three(ish. The time period is fudged to protect identities), on a road trip with a dear friend of mine, who I'll call Clyde. Clyde had been married to Bonnie for several years. They were great together. They fought, but they were honestly adorable when they did. On this trip, Clyde expressed that he was frustrated, not just in the relationship, but with his life in general. It was the first time I'd seen such a sadness in his eyes, a real depression that was actively eating away at him. It was killing him, and to a certain extent my faith in True Love.