Welcome to Tuesday’s with Chel.
Each week Chel Micheline of Gingerblue will offer her perspectives on our Bliss Habits. Please enjoy the wisdom and clarity she offers.
I will admit that when I hear the word “romance”, I immediately start to think about things like Fabio, soap operas, wax-y chocolates in a velvet-covered cardboard heart, the TV show “The Bachelor”, and single red roses in tight cellophane wrappers sitting in a bucket by the checkout counter at 7-11.
In other words: “romance” conjures up things that are sort of cheesy…
I will admit to being much more open-minded about romance when I was younger. I was very influenced by my parents’ relationship. They were childhood sweethearts (they grew up on the same street) and my mom married my dad when she was 18. They just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.
And, although they often advised me to wait until I was older and out of school and had a career, etc., the story of their romance was not lost on me. Since I was a little girl, I had my eyes wide open for *my* childhood sweetheart. As soon as I turned thirteen, I wanted a boyfriend. I wanted to be with someone. I wanted to start my “happily ever after” as soon as possible.
Romance seemed a necessary part of the process. But for me, the appeal was always in the *potential* of romance rather than the actual act of romance. What I mean is, I was always more interested in the thought behind the gesture than the gesture itself. It was like an unopened present sitting under the Christmas tree- you just never know what it might hold, what might be in store- I liked the anticipation of romance more than the actual experience of it.
I think I began to start getting sour on the whole “romance” concept in college. One of the guys I dated claimed to be a huge romantic but it never seemed genuine. For instance: one night, while I was at a meeting, he decided to cook me dinner in my apartment.
I appreciated it because it was lovely to come home from a long day and have dinner ready and waiting. But the “romance” began to wane after about three bites, when he started whining about how much work it was to prepare everything. That was pretty irritating. But still- big romantic gesture, right? This was what I had been waiting for… this was it. The start of good things.
Let’s just say the evening didn’t improve- my boyfriend was completely frustrated at how the meal came out and was exhausted from having to cook it and downed a bottle or two of wine and conked out on the couch. Ah, well… still- very romantic gesture, right?
I kept telling myself that until I walked into my kitchen and was greeted with an absolute disaster – we’re talking sauce on the *ceiling*, pans all over the floor, the fridge door ajar. I had to stay up all night cleaning it- my apartment was on the ground floor of a VERY OLD building in Georgia and unless I wanted a giant roach infestation, I had to keep everything spotless.
By the time I was done, exhausted and listening to my then-boyfriend snoring away on my sofa, I made the decision that romance was *not* for me. It just seemed like a lot of work, to be honest. A lot of show with not a lot of substance.
My opinion of relationships in general began to fade, as well. I dated some more, even got engaged, but it all seemed like so much *work* and so little authentic happiness. Luckily, the engagement did not “stick” (I think we both dodged a huge bullet!) and I went on my single way, more determined than ever to steer clear of messy romance.
…And then I met Tom… That was twelve years ago and we celebrate our seventh wedding anniversary in November. I’ll tell you that whole story another time.
But, as for romance… well, it just got reinvented. Tom and I are both low-key people. We both cherish comfort and companionship over “chic and saucy”.
The truth is we’d much rather hang out with in our pajamas, watching a funny movie on TV than dining over candlelight at some fancy restaurant.
Instead of a single wrapped-in-cellophane rose presented to me with a flourish, I will regularly find a candy bar at the bottom of a grocery bag, the kind only *I* like. (And yes, he does the grocery shopping!)
Instead of a dozen roses on Valentine’s Day, I’ll receive a new plant for my garden, the one I really wanted to buy but wouldn’t let myself because I was afraid it was too expensive and it might not survive (so it’s not only a much desired gift, it’s also a vote of confidence on Tom’s part…)
Instead of waxy chocolates in a velvet heart, I’ll find a brand new set of watercolors on the table in my art studio. And a book he thought I might like sitting on my bedside table.
Instead of weekly dates at chic restaurants, we just hang out together. He goes with me to the craft store and the nursery, and I go with him to the hardware store and to see movies like “Cowboys and Aliens”. We go out together to our favorite vegan restaurant (which is well-lit, not a candle in the place) and order a bunch of amazing things and share the plates because we both love the same food and we’re both long-time vegetarians.
It isn’t a little black dress that gets him going, but a worn out t-shirt and a sarcastic remark I’ll make in response to something stupid on TV.
Yeah, none of this sounds traditionally romantic, but you know what? It works for us. At the core of our relationship, we are truly best friends. There’s definitely a spark there, but it comes as a result of the fact that we truly like one another. It’s the spark that comes from the fact that we are completely allowed to be ourselves in this relationship. It’s the spark of two people who have grown together and changed together and evolved together and built a little family together.
The bottom line is that when we are together (which is often since we both work at home) we feel absolutely free to be our true selves, completely and honestly. When we are together, we are 100% comfortable with exactly *who* we are. There’s no “on” or “off” with us- we just are.
So no, I don’t have an epic tale of “romance” and passion to share with you. My romance is a twelve-year relationship that took me by surprise and brings me tremendous joy and laughter. I’ll take that over a “grand romantic gesture” any day.
Lovely Chell!