What’s your definition of romantic?
My definition of romance has changed so much over the years. Dating has taught me the things entertainment deems romantic is actually a pile of red flags on fire. The heat you feel isn’t the flames of passion but the toxic waste chapping your butt on it’s way out of your body.
No one is coming to save you. No one is going to read between the lines. The only way you are going to get swept off your feet is if you try to cross a flooded creek. Or go dancing in a tornado. And that pressure in your chest is most likely heartburn.
Cynical? Who me?
Not romantic: one year for a gift giving occasion a star was named after me for 30 years. In the constellation of my zodiac sign. This was not romantic. It upset me greatly. I just kept thinking about how poor I was and how that money could be put to better use.
Surprising me with food. Are you kidding me, I just ate. But you brought me food and I’m expected to eat something.
Flowers. Flowers are nice, but buy me a living plant so it can grow year after year. Buy me a fruit tree. I can eat plums and think of you.
In a way, traditional romance is wasted on me. Talk to me. Give me your time. Listen to me. Help me. Take out the trash, wash the dishes, play with my dog. Let’s go on a picnic or watch a movie at home curled up on the couch. Let’s cook dinner together. Hold me when I cry. Let’s go on a walk. I have long since discovered I don’t need expensive extravagance things. I’m a simple woman.
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