Most women dream of living the “Romeo/Juliet” fairytale where their suitors proclaim their undying love from beneath a vine-laden balcony; a sweet symphony is heard in the distance, the sun is sinking below the horizon and the smell of roses lingers in the air. For me, however, this would invoke a fidgety, uncomfortable response and a bout of nervous laughter. So I'm on a mission to discover why romance creeps me out.
I believe it is forced and faked. It takes a lot of time to spread rose petals on the bed, light candles and shop for massage oil. On the surface this may seem well-intentioned, but I have to wonder what motive is behind the situation. It feels to me, that if two people really love each other, elaborate gestures aren't necessary. There shouldn't be a need to “convince”.
Secondly, if in the midst of a passionate rendezvous, a candle could be knocked over and ignite the new lingerie. The elastic would melt to my skin, my significant other would panic and smother me in a blanket, the massage oil would feed the flame, and the evening would be ruined. We'd spend our Anniversary in the emergency room. To top it all off, the nurse would probably be modelesque, so in addition to being covered in gauze to protect my fresh elastic burns, I would be red with jealousy, nonchalantly keeping an eye on the interactions between my lover and the medical goddess.
Thirdly, I never witnessed a romantic or even affectionate exchange between my parents so it wasn't particularly modeled for me as a child. But what I did pick up was that yelling is a perfectly reasonable means of communication, marriages don't last, and that staying married after eight years of separation still legitimizes weekly conjugal visits. Needless to say, I've had a hard time maintaining healthy relationships.
Although a frothy display of devotion may seem appealing at times, I realize that it is like a mirage in the desert; drawing you in with empty promises of hydration and fulfillment. In the end, you leave unsatisfied and disappointed. What really matters to me are the little things. Nothing says “I love you” more than my decaffeinated boyfriend fixing a pot of coffee right before I wake up. From across the table I lift my mug as a gesture of appreciation and slide him the sports section of the newspaper. Now that's true love.
In the confines of illegitemate romance (by the way another great title for this, lol) you have so eloquently poised the idea that catering to the comercialized needs to prove your love on a daily basis through the elaborate designs conjured from the mental hurdles that men feel so obligated to jump on a daily basis is infact the lesser way to go. I must say the first time I read this I laughed pretty hard at the ideas but reading through it again I kinda get the underlaiden sense of direction you are on here. The proof of love and affection for the other is in the little things that we do everyday. Taking a moment out to text the one you love just to see how their day is going, sitting through a movie that you may not have a considerable amount of interest for without complaint because you know the other really wanted to see it with you, or prepare a mutual meal of green veggies and lean meat for dinner because the other is dieting and you refuse to eat your grease covered pizza infront of them out of respect shows the true affection in the relationship.
ReplyDeleteThose gestures are not fake, they are not conjoured out of thin air, or derived with a specific goal in mind; they are everyday actions that you just take on with a simple understanding of mutual respect and love for the other. Those gestures often become lost in our daily activities. I feel the same way honey and understand as well as appreciate your regard for them.
It has always made me wonder why friends of mine would date these girls that are so artificial. The little things like that never makes a dent to them to prove affection (eventhough they are still required and offense is taken when they are not done) but rather become upset at the notion when their significant other doesn't elaborate with roses on the bed, a drawn bubble bath, romantic candles or message oil. Maybe it is for that reason that the modelesque nurse lands more men then the snide prude. The prude is only the bait that draws men closer to the real goal of happiness which is infact led by charma. Either way, the understanding and desire to prove ones love through those daily tasks of vurtue is revered by me and greatly appreciated. I love you baby, and I see our strong bond of love still runs parallel. I am by far one of the luckiest men alive for having you in my life and you allowing me into yours. Coffee in the morn sweets :)