"O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?"
Breaking the rules, my little underage peanut.
Because, in reality, that's exactly what Romeo was doing when he set his sights on that pretty piece of Veronian tragedy, Juliet. Daddy et al. said not to push that little red button, but Romeo was not one to heed red-button-advice. And vice versa. Juliet, still under Mama's thumb at the ripe old age of 13, was meant to be marrying a much more appropriate suitor—the illustrious, if somewhat boring, Paris. Yet even Paris had been told to back off for the present due to Juliet's somewhat (even for that day) risqué circumstances: she was, after all, only 13. Capulet and Montague alike could agree: Don't push that little red button.
But we all know what that means…
It really just seems part of our nature sometimes, doesn't it? Quick! Don't think of elephants! And what are you thinking about right now? Tell us not to think and our minds start racing. Tell us not to touch and our fingers begin to itch. Tell us not to love and we trip all over ourselves to declare our undying passion. Rules, as they say, were made to be broken, and we are very much inclined to do so. And if those rules were ever to be taken away, an element of passion, of pure disregard for anything but love, would most certainly vanish. We need rules, if only so that we can throw caution to the wind in the name of love and bust those rules to pieces. It's a theme that we see cropping up again and again in all forms of literature and from all ages of history—even the current one.