I am not a romantic person – not all flowery and mushy and all “oh baby, baby”. I didn’t get married until I was almost 44 – and maybe that’s the difference, but even looking back to all those single years – what most got my heart was little considerations – not flowers or presents or dinners – I could always afford my own flowers or dinners – I didn’t need someone to give me those things – I needed and wanted someone to hold my hand at the end of a bad day and lie to me and tell me everything would be all right.
We do the dishes together every night, my husband and I, and that’s romantic. He shares his frustrations with his job, and that’s romantic. He goes to art shows with me, even tho he has no interest and that is romantic.
Is romance showing someone you love them? And how do you show someone you love them? Presents, flowers, sex? Is that romance, love?
No, for me it is sharing all that day to day “drudgery” known as life – my husband vacuums and cleans the bathroom because I physically can’t do those things anymore – He can read my face and knows what I’m thinking – and that is romantic.
He thinks I’m smart and funny – and that’s romantic.
And no matter how cheerful and upbeat I act, he knows when the pain is getting the better of me and he stops me from doing whatever I am doing and he does it instead – and that’s romantic.
And we always hold hands – no matter where we are – it’s an automatic reflex – if I put out my hand I know his will be right there…and that is romantic.
I’d rather have his hand in mine than all the flowers in the universe. And that’s all I have ever wanted – someone to hold my hand and lie to me and tell me it’s all gonna be all right!