How My Views on Romance Have Changed Over the Years
As a lifelong devotee to the rom-com (romantic comedy), grand gestures a la Richard Gere showing up in a white limo at the end of Pretty Woman to profess his love for Julia Roberts were “the norm” in terms of true romance in my mind for a very long time. Surprise gifts and trips and similarly expensive gestures couldn’t be beaten. I often dreamed of waking up to Charles declaring we were heading off on an adventure, to pack my bags (with some direction as to whether we were going to encounter cold or warm weather, etc.) and an aside that he contacted my job and arranged my time off for me. Nothing to worry about, only pure excitement.
These ideas come solely from movies and TV, of course. And not to say that things like this don’t ever happen, or some people aren’t inclined to spontaneous jaunts or candlelit dinner dates on boats, etc., but I’ve come to learn, as a 36-year-old woman that…that’s not exactly real life. It was a hard lesson…ask my poor, sweet Charles.
Prior to getting married, my “love language” was always gifts. Something I was a bit embarrassed by but also couldn’t deny. I loved unwrapping presents, having new things, but more than anything, to me, it was the idea that someone thought about me. That you walked by a store display, for instance, saw a beautiful bracelet that screamed “Arlyn!” and you bought it for me as a sweet surprise. Charles tried his darnedest to oblige me in those early years, even when he had a limited income, but (sorry my dear) it was never truly in his nature. Charles’ love language, for instance, is 100% quality time. Always has been, always will be likely. Just sitting in the same room with me chit-chatting about life or things we’ve recently heard or the like is enough for that man. So thinking about what to buy me on any given Tuesday wasn’t ever at the forefront of his mind.
I look back at our relationship and honestly feel a bit bad for him. I had tremendous expectations, and I put them all on him. I’m naturally a gift-giver, mostly because I always loved to receive them, so I showered him in things. Except, of course, that Charles doesn’t really care for “things”…ah the relationship conundrum.
These days, after nearly four years of marriage and 10 more before that, my views on romance have changed tremendously. The thought of that spontaneous vacation still sounds unbelievable, don’t get me wrong, but my desire for material items has decreased significantly. I prefer fewer, more meaningful items. Or better yet, experiences to share and remember. A beautifully written note with honest emotion and vulnerability is far more appreciated than some random bracelet. Or you know, a surprise breakfast sandwich and iced coffee upon picking me up at physical therapy.
Settling into bed, realizing I forgot my water, and looking over to my nightstand to see an icy cup waiting for me is the ultimate in care.
To me, romance these days equate to doing things for me without being asked, rather than giving me things. In fact, I recently retook my love languages test, and my results completely changed. To? Acts of service. “Keep resting, I’m going to cook us some dinner” is up there for me right now with “hey, want to go to Paris this weekend?!?” (Okay, maybe a little lower than that.) While he hasn’t quite mastered the meal selection process for us, he does have little things up his sleeve. Every single Monday and Tuesday, for instance, Charles moves my car from one side of the street to the other, for street sweeping. I’ve never asked him to do this. He just does it. I never have to think about doing it, either. Waking up to the sounds of the bathtub being scrubbed recently was music to my ears. Leaving a giant stack of cardboard boxes in the corner of the dining room (me) and it just being broken down without asking and taken out to recycling (him) is true love. Settling into bed, realizing I forgot my water, and looking over to my nightstand to see an icy cup waiting for me is the ultimate in care.
But of course, these aren’t the things you make Hollywood blockbusters about. There isn’t a movie out there called “He Brought Me My Coffee in Bed” followed by the sequel “Surprise Saturday Morning Car Wash,” though there should be. The older I get, the more needs to be done all the time. Finding ways to give me back my time or take an obligation of thought off my shoulders is going to be the utmost romantic gesture to me. If today-me could sit down with 20-something me and tell her all this, I’m sure she’d hardly believe me. “Trust me, one day, Charles loading up Bob’s Burgers on the TV to be ready for you to go to bed while you wash your face will thrill you as much as that fancy dinner you so badly want.” I’d probably think I just settled, that I never got the “romance” I wanted and now I’m making the best of a boring life situation. I mean…maybe? But either way, I’m okay with it.
Surely, movie-worthy romance is still appreciated, if it comes. Yes, okay, Charles, feel free to book me a day at the spa followed by dinner on the sand by a private chef. I’ll gladly accept it. But also, thinking “she’s probably hungry, let me make her eggs before she thinks to do it herself” is pretty darn close. Leaving a little scribbled note on a torn piece of paper by my computer for me to find will be as well-received as an overpriced Hallmark card. Actually, better.
Relationships change and evolve and settle. This is how we’ve settled, and while things do still ebb and flow depending on what’s going on, I’m perfectly content with it all.
But I won’t turn down a spontaneous trip to Paris where you worked out my PTO with my boss in advance, okay, Charles? 😉
See you tomorrow, FOAS.