My mother has always been a true romantic. As a kid, any movie night that didn’t involve my step dad, included a romantic comedy. If there was a new one out, we saw it. You’ve Got Mail, While You Were Sleeping, The Mirror Has Two Faces, these are the movies I remember watching. (And loving.)
I’ve always thought of myself as a romantic as well; I suppose it was inevitable watching that many love stories, but I was a real sucker for a love story. Anything that involved running through an airport, standing outside an apartment window, or that sudden realisation that she was the one, and I’m hooked. Ted stealing the blue french horn for Robyn, was possibly one of my most favourite moments of TV. Actually Ted has a lot of great romantic moments.
But despite my great love for a love story, according to Boatman, I am the exact opposite of romantic; a statement for which I took great offence the first time he told me.
It shouldn’t have come as any great surprise really. I distinctly remember the day, when as a young teenager, mum was wondering what to buy my sister for her birthday. “She wants a hat rack,’ I told her.
“Oh I can’t get her a hat rack!’
“Why not?” I asked. It seemed a perfectly good present to me.
“Well it’s not very romantic…” Cue complete confusion as to why a present to your daughter had to be romantic, but to mum it did. And obviously not romance in the ‘dozen roses and light a bunch of candles,’ sense of the word. To her birthday’s were a chance to buy something you would love, but couldn’t justify yourself, not something practical.
Me, well, it turns out I’m all for practical. As much as I love presents (and believe me I LOVE presents), I want something functional. The idea of a dozen red roses is lovely, but in all honesty, if Boatman brought them home, my initial thought would be, ‘why waste money on something that’s going to die?’
Of course this has caused some kind of cognitive confusion over the years, as each birthday/christmas/anniversary or present giving occasion has me thinking I should be requesting something that’s romantic, as opposed to what I actually want. And every time Boatman has tried to do something really romantic, I’ve ended up hurting his feelings cause I just never quite ‘get it.’
So it should have come as no surprise then, when on Sunday at Church this mention on the church calendar was actually a reminder to not just the church in general, but Boatman and I specifically.
We had a great giggle at the fact that if it hadn’t been in there, we could have quite easily almost got through tomorrow without remembering at all. I mean I knew it was coming up, but not quite that soon.
Like I said, I’m the opposite of romantic.
If I were to write a rom com, there probably would be someone declaring their love in a crowded room or something with an escalating power ballad in the background, (because of course you need some great scene like that), but there would also be scene with him filling up her car with fuel, because if that’s not a turn on, I don’t know what is. (And yes, I’m being serious.)
In fact one of my favourite happy endings these days, is the end of The Hunger Games. Having spent most of the books undecided who I wanted Katniss to be with, the ending was perfect, because although not what I was expecting, it was proof that at the end of the day, the love of your life is the one person who you can’t actually live without, or at least don’t want to.
The one who plants roses in your garden instead of puts them on your table.
Who builds a life with you instead of a house of candles.
And who understands all the beautiful, amazing, broken pieces of you, and calls them his own. Someone who gets that for you at least, all the small gestures are so much grander than the big ones.
Someone who would not only let you, but expect that you would use your wedding anniversary as blog fodder, and not in a gushy way, because let’s face it, you both kind of hate that. 😉
A true romantic would probably finish this post by wishing their husband a Happy 9th Anniversary, but I’m the opposite of a romantic. If however, I was to say something it would be along the lines of this:
“Timbo, it’s been 9 years and each day is just another in the part of forever we said we’d be together, and I’ve loved you almost as long as I’ve had my Doc Martens. And you know how I feel about those shoes. I’m not the decorating kind, and I would never steal you a blue french horn, but I would totally buy you one from eBay. Thanks for saving my strawberry plants from the snails. Also please put fuel in the car. And happy anniversary. :)”
Are you a romantic?