Aren’t all men romantic? Aren’t they supposed to sweep us of our feet and lay us down on a bed of rose paddles, in a room with flickering candles while soft, romantic music is playing in the background?
My idea of romance was set in my head at a young age. I knew how it was supposed to be, I had seen it in movies and had read it in books and I wanted the same thing.
My post this week, about the 99 cent lipstick, made many of you believe, that I am married to Mr. Romantic and it made me smile. It made me think about our relationship, how things started…way back then.
We were just married for a few months and lived in our tiny, little apartment, that we had named ‘The Shoe-box’. One day I wanted to do something special and had the marvelous idea to surprise my husband with a romantic dinner; a special night out, which we really couldn’t afford.
We were both full time students and worked a few odd jobs in the evening and on the weekends, to make ends meet. Money was either non-existing or was instantly spent.
Going out was not in our budget, even a home delivery pizza was a luxury, so I decided instead to make a special dinner at home. I cooked and baked all afternoon long, cleaned ‘The Shoe-box’ top to bottom, made myself look presentable as well as desirable and tried to get everything ready at the same time.
Our old, banged up table was covered with a nice piece of fabric and our mix and match china was nicely set between flowers and napkins. Candles were burning everywhere, little tea lights were flickering on window seals and kitchen counters. An incense stick was smoking in the back -what can I say, it was in the 80’s, we all had one back then.
I couldn’t wait to see his face; I expected him home by 7 pm and I was anxiously waiting.
I was sitting on the edge of my seat, the clock showed 7:30 pm and he was still not at home. Cell phones hadn’t been invented back then, so I just had to wait.
Finally I heard our old car pulling up and I checked the room one more time. Perfect timing, the food was ready, the music was playing and everything looked the way I had it planned.
The door opened and my husband walked in. He looked around at our place, looked at me and said, “Oh No, I thought we had paid the electric bill.”
He was relieved, when I assured him that our electricity was not turned off -yet. Then he looked at me, “Why all the candles?” and I explained to him that we would have a romantic candle light dinner.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked nervously and looked instantly guilty, as if he had forgotten a major anniversary. I told him there wasn’t a special occasion, what made him look puzzled. I could tell it didn’t make any sense to him, but he seemed to be relieved that he wasn’t in the dog house.
He still didn’t get the whole idea, but sat down on the table.
“It’s dark in here, don’t you think?” and I just shuck my head and rolled my eyes. I assume he must not have seen my reaction, because he continued talking. “How am I supposed to see my food, when it’s so dark?” he asked and pulled the candle stick closer to his plate; by then I was ready to whack him with the frying pan.
He did survive the night and so did I. He learned a trick or two over the years and I adjusted the romantic ideas in my head to our real world, to us. We weren’t movie stars, we had our own likes and dislikes.
The concept of a candle light dinner might be forever lost on my husband, but we found other ways to show each other how much we care, like a silly lipstick note on the mirror.
I think the most important thing is to do little things out of the ordinary to show our love and appreciation and interesting enough, it works both ways.