The True Definition of Romance…Isn’t This

Posted on October 19, 2015

I posted an update on Facebook this past week expressing something along the lines of thinking everybody deserved to have flowers sent to them at least once. Well, aside from their death and despite the fact I have a list of folks who I’m looking forward to sending flowers to for their funeral. That point aside, it was about receiving flowers because…well, it’s kinda romantic, isn’t it? Except at funerals. Then it can be a bit of a “ha ha, I’m still alive and you’re not!” middle finger. Gotta say I was surprised by several of the replies, though. It certainly helps me understand why so many people turn to romance novels.

One of my friends mentioned his husband had never given him flowers and that kind of shocked me a little. Not because his husband isn’t thoughtful. He is. It’s just that my friend has a set of lungs on him and a Chinese temper. He’ll let things boil to a point, then he explodes, which is when his husband typically relents. Not this time. His husband replied and stated he did romantic things a, b, and c for my friend. And, if he was going to send flowers, then a, b, or c would have to go. I can see why my friend yells from time to time.

My own husband has some strange ideas about romance. He allows me to live, which is therefore romantic in itself…in his mind. Ralph does NOT like to receive flowers (they die), dislikes cards (they coast money and take up space in a drawer), hates massages with a passion, and is not a romantic person in general. That’s his grandmother’s training and she does tend to stomp the living shit out of anything fun like that. Or anything she deems as alive and remotely happy.

Not all is grim with him, though. My husband does make me tea in the morning when he’s here, reminds me to brush my teeth if too many hours have gone by, and enjoys helping me wash my back in the shower. His idea of me being romantic in return is to pick up after him, typically without complaining (a feat in itself), cleaning the garage, using coupons, spending as little money as possible, and obeying. Again, his grandmother’s training.

I’ve always imagined there were times when a man made Ralph’s grandmother happy. It’s just when she realized she was happy that this little conversation took place: “I’m happy. You must DIE.” And thus his life force would be snuffed out, most likely with a pillow…or a large blunt object. Allegedly since they never have found the bodies and formal charges have never been filed despite extensive police investigations.

It’s not girly for men to receive flowers. It’s actually kind of nice. And it’s not a sign of weakness for a man to give his wife or girlfriend flowers. Or a woman to give her girlfriend or wife flowers. The tricky part is balancing things out so that it’s a spontaneous and welcome surprise, but not an expectation. I have friends who feel they are being mistreated if they don’t receive flowers every other month. Really? My husband sends me flowers every ten years and, even then, he farms the task out to India…or one of his co-workers. Every other month might be pushing it, much like Ralph feels every five years would be pushing it for me.

So, while I wait for the next nine years and eight months to go by before my husband buys flowers for me again, I just have to long for the weekends when he flies home and climbs into bed. I snuggle up next to him, listen to his breathing, smell the expensive bath & body gel he used in the shower, reach out, and wait for him to say those magic words I wait desperately to hear; “Stop touching me.” Ah…romance!

________________________
Kristoffer Gair (who formerly wrote under the pseudonym Kage Alan) is the Detroit-based author of Honor Unbound, A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To My Sexual Orientation, Andy Stevenson Vs. The Lord Of The Loins, Gaylias: Operation Thunderspell, several short stories featured in anthologies (to be combined in a forthcoming book), the recently re-published novella Falling Awake, its sequel, Falling Awake II: Revenant and Falling Awake III: Requiem.