Archive for February 10th, 2009



My husband is not romantic in the traditional sense. He is not wired that way. Since I have had the pleasure of being the object of his affection since we were twelve years old, I can personally attest to the fact that he has always been this way.  I thought, as young silly girls do, that I would change all of that.  I would turn him into a Casanova on a Triumph.  (That was his motorcycle at the time) It was just a matter of time…

Fast forward eighteen disappointing years later.  After crying, nagging and pouting, I am embarrassed to admit, that I finally realized my definition of romance needed to change.  Starting from scratch I through out my notions of what romance was and looked at what romance can be.  Romance in my mind looked nothing like romance to my husband.  Vice versa. We are simply completely opposite.  I am a walking encyclopedia of romantic gestures. Mr. Red Hot is a digital library of diesel mechanics.   Hespeaks in binary code and I speak in Latin. Not really, but you get the idea.

Red Hot Momma’s have to adjust their thinking sometimes.  My new definition of romance became anything he did to make my life more comfortable or safer.  Like checking the air in my tires before I drive my car, even though the car lets me know if my tires are low.  Keeping the kids quiet when I am sleeping in.  Getting up with the kids in the middle of the night, if they are sick.  Throwing a load of laundry in to wash.  Sorting that horrendous basket of 189 unmatched white socks.  Cooking a meal or two on his days off work.  Always taking the boys with him, even if he is just going outside to work.  Offering to watch the kids so I can have a break.  Romance is a expression of love.  By doing these things for me, he is expressing his love.  Therefore being romantic.

When I started accepting these acts of love as romance, a funny thing happened.  He started buying me flowers.  For no reason.  Just because I love them.  So, all of my efforts to make him romantic, just made him miserable.  By appreciating what he does do for me, I freed him to be “romantic”.  I suppose romance is truly just appreciation.  What do you think?


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