Romance, like coaching football is not about your greatest victory, it’s about your latest victory. I always fancied myself as a true romantic, not so. Were romance a fixed target with certain deeds and acts that are considered romantic, I would be IT. But I have learned over the years that romance is a moving target. What proved very romantic yesterday might be childish and irritating today. Some women love candles others love a guy that can make the lions roar. My wife hates both. Over the years I have learned what is romantic to her, sometimes.
It’s romantic when I sit with her to watch the latest Jane Austin movie, for the 10th time. Right now that movie is the remake of Pride and Prejudice. Before that it was Mansfield Park, before that it was Emma, before that it was the A&E version of Emma, before that it was the modern version of Pride and Prejudice made by some guys in Salt Lake, before that it was Kate and Leopold, before that is was A Walk to Remember and before them all it was While You Were Sleeping. Okay the last ones are not Jane Austin movies but the point is I sit and watch with her the chic flick of the month. Sometimes I even trick her into watching a new chic flick. She had no desire to see the Note Book but I recorded it on the DVR and started watching it. She was hooked and balling by the end. That was romantic.
It’s romantic when I play with the kids. She loves it when I wrestle with the little one on the living room floor. The little ones are not so little anymore and while it is romantic for her, it’s down right dangerous for me.
It’s romantic when I make her laugh, especially when we are laying in bed right before falling asleep and I start making jokes and before long she is laughing so hard that we have woken the kids up. Then we all go down and have chocolate milk and try to go to bed again.
It’s romantic when I buy dinner. It’s really romantic when I buy dinner after she has told me not to. And it is really romantic if halfway through making dinner, I tell her it’s just for the kids and that we are going out to dinner.
It’s romantic when we can get through a family dinner without talking about poop.
It’s romantic that I always find her when I get home from work and before doing anything else I give her a big hug and kiss.
It’s romantic when I rub her shoulders with absolutely no expectation of anything in return. (She somehow can tell the difference)
It’s romantic in it’s own sick way the show the security cameras at Wall-Mart get when we are shopping. She actually feels bad if I don’t try when we are shopping.
As is always the case, some things I do turn out to be romantic and I had no idea they were. Sometimes sleeping in on a workday, like today, is romantic to her. Coming home from work early for no reason.
Once, I was really mad at her for making me do the right thing so to get over it, I made a list of the 100 things I love about my wife. On Valentines day, lacking anything of real substance to give to her, other than chocolate, I always give her chocolate, that’s a requirement, not an attempt to be romantic, I gave her that list. She never says much about it but she keeps it and looks at it quite regularly. I told her it was stupid and that I was going to throw it away and she got very defensive and told me it was hers and that I could not touch it.
My greatest romantic moments? I couldn’t tell you. 17 years and five kids later, I know we have had some great romantic times but mostly it’s been a lot of laughter, some tears and a whole lot of us against them.
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