My fiance never buys me flowers
Today is July 17th - the same date that falls on a Saturday in 2010, which is the year Jeremy and I are planning to get married. If we get married on July 17th, 2010, it will be my parents' 39th anniversary. That means that their 40th anniversary would be our first. Pretty cool if you ask me...
I always dreamed that the man I'd someday marry would be a complete romantic.
When I was a teenager, I imagined this meant he would bring me flowers and sing me songs - all of the sappy junk you find in movies and beach books. I imagined long conversations, candlelight, holding hands and backrubs and slow dancing under the stars.
My dating history isn't very long, and I was lucky to have relationships with some pretty good guys (although not every guy I dated would qualify as Mr. Wonderful...), so there was the occasional bouquet of flowers, walk on the beach, or song dedication. I even dated a guy who used to sing and play the guitar (although he wasn't singing TO me as much as just in the same room as me). By the time I met Jeremy, I was older and no longer looking for Mr. Perfect Romantic-Comedy Hero. Or anybody at all. After a long and painful relationship with a person who seemed to bring out the worst in me, I was ready to have fun being single for awhile.
This wasn't to be.
Right away we were so comfortable with each other that it seemed like we'd met years ago. Being the incurable romantic that I am, I floated into a starry-eyed crush that surprised all of my friends, since he's younger and different than the other guys I'd been interested in. They all carefully advised me to have fun but 'be careful'. It was hard not to like him though - he was sweet and funny and made me happy. Before long he'd moved in with me and after 6 weeks we settled into a committed relationship. As scary as this sounds (and probably should sound) it made sense for us.
We went through all of the usual things that new couples do - meeting families and friends, spending lots of time together, talking for hours, etc. It wasn't until we'd been together for a couple of years that I noticed he'd never bought me flowers. Or a birthday card. We didn't even have a "song". There were no grand romantic gestures, no hand-holding during long walks. He didn't say sweet things to me or call me beautiful. And for a little while, I worried about what the absence of those things meant...
Several months ago
"Ugh. What a day. I can't wait to go home, pour myself a drink and soak in a nice bath for at least an hour".
"I can make you a bath."
"Thanks honey - that would be great."
Around 8:30 that evening, I heard that water running. While I sat in front of my computer, he walked around the apartment collecting candles, then opened a bottle of wine and poured me a glass. Without a word, he lit candles, set my wine glass on the floor, found my book, and made a very nice bubble bath.
"Your bath's ready, old lady".
Looking up at the man who doesn't buy flowers because "they die" and never gives me cards because he "never knows which ones to get", I realized that he's been making me a bath since we first moved in together, always with the same routine. If I mention being tired or having sore muscles or even being cold, he offers to make me a bath. He also makes my drinks for me all the time. Like ALL the time. And gets me blankets when I'm cold. He buys low-fat milk, Coke Zero and never complains when the only snacks in the cupboard are rice crisps. He kisses me on the forehead and rubs my shoulders when I'm sore. And he'll try his best to make me smile or laugh whenever I'm sad. He let me have the closet in our bedroom. He always remembers to leave the porch light on for me.
Oh, and instead of buying me flowers, he let me adjust our budget so I could bring home enough plants to make a garden.