The other day I was standing in line at the grocery store behind an eldery man carrying half-a-dozen roses, each one a different color. As we were waiting he turned around and I commented on how pretty the flowers were.
"They are for my wife, each one represents a decade we've been together," he said.
"Wow," I replied. "Sixty years is very impressive."
"No, we've been married fifty," he said
"But you have six roses," I replied.
"Yes, one for each decade that's passed and the other marks the rest of a decade we have yet to have."
It turns out she was getting out of hospital after a very bad fall which they thought would end her life.
"What's the secret?" I asked.
"Never stop showing how grateful you are for each other, and always make sure you have something to look forward to."
I left the store thinking that was one of the most beautiful things I've heard and it made me think. Of the men I've ever spent serious time with, not one has been blessed with the romance gene. In fact, other than my gay male friends, very few of my friends ever talk of being swept of their feet by their partner. The only examples I could think of related to older generations.
I’m the first one to admit I’m a sucker for a soppy tale – The Notebook, Message in A Bottle, The Best of Me, Les Miserables, they all lured me in to the concept of dreamy love. Scenes of candle filled cabins, surprise picnics among the wildflowers, the about turn of a man post argument racing back to lift the sobbing woman in a desperate embrace – they just don’t happen, or do they?
At a time of inner reflection over a lifetime of relationships, I am wondering what did I miss, or was there nothing to miss in the first place?
I am a self-confessed romantic. Heartfelt notes in drawers, picnics by the river, hand painted cards, little baked goodies you happily devoured. Were they lost on my loves? I’m guessing they were. Hallmark and Hollywood you have a lot to answer for.
My dad was an exception (at least I think he was, but I wonder again if it was also generational). Mum was forever showered with fragrant bouquets and boxes of Milk Tray (which thankfully she graciously shared). Were some of his declarations of love driven by guilt after beverage-fueled boisterous boys golf trips, maybe so, but he showered her with tokens of love always.
She never had to question where his heart lay. So much so, she has been without him now since he passed 12 years ago, but she insists on quoting Paul Newman “why settle for ground beef, when you had steak.”
When I ask girlfriends my age, most fail to defy my theory. Only one speaks of flower laden breakfast trays, foot rubs and candlelit dinners. A solo male friend told me he makes a point of enduring romcoms on a regular basis with his wife because it means alot to her, even if it means missing the chance to see his cherised football games. My lucky gay friends don't get a say here as their romance barometers are stratospheric and I'm only just a little bit (okay alot) envious.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a 21st century gal who can do most things for herself. But boys, (and I say boys, only because of my own personal experience and preference), there comes a time when even the hardiest lass wouldn’t mind succumbing to a little pampering. It wouldn’t take much, but the odd thoughtful gesture to show the woman you fell in love that you really see and value her, could go a very long way.
Underneath it all I, like a surprising number of us, have an old-fashioned streak that craves a little romance. I’m not shy to share I’ve daydreamed of finding that note in a bottle on the beach written by Kevin Costner, having Eddie Redmayne sing his ballad that life has begun now he has met me, answering my door to the dashing Hubble Gardner, or best yet, being swept onto the back of horse by Jamie Fraser in Outlander and whisked off for a night of unwavering passion by candlelight, (a must after bearing three children). Obviously, I haven’t given this much thought at all!
At no point during these swoon worthy imaginings did the dashing man attempt his version of romance by saying "aren't you happy, I took the kids out for the morning" (ahem I wouldn't have had them without your valient input in the first place), "relax on the sofa with the dog (who suffers from eye watering flatulence), while I do the dishes", (incidently this has nothing to do with the fact I love the dog as much as you do and there wouldn't be dishes if we'd gone out and someone else had cooked), or worse yet, "I paid your car tax." These may seem like incredible declarations of love, but guess what - they are not anywhere close to breathtaking romantic notions. Jamie Fraser, please save the day and start a blog.
I have three kids and hope they will be thoughtful partners. As for the gentleman in the store, I bet his lucky wife took those roses and looks forward to another decade with him by her side.
Maybe romance really is a thing somewhere out there. In the meantime, much to my son's dismay, I will just keep playing Phantom of the Opera on Spotify and daydream!
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