on romance

You probably haven’t missed that today is Valentine’s Day. No wait, before you click away again, let me finish. I’m totally with you on not really appreciating all the hype around this little day. Roses are far from being my favourite flower (higher on the list come daisies, fresias, fuschias, hyacinths). I would rather receive turkish delight than chocolates any day. And as for teddy bears – well, I haven’t been excited about cuddly toys in about 15 years.

So why even bother writing about Valentine’s Day? Because the truth is I actually really really like Valentine’s Day. I like the romantic messages, the thoughtful gestures, the sweet reminders that I am loved.

But marriage has shown me that romance is more than flowers and chocolate-covered strawberries (although they are nice). I always knew that of course, but I think now I know it. I get to experience romance every day, but it’s not really like I thought it was (I don’t spend most of my day swooning and fainting with love). It’s better.


Romance Rasmus and Fiona

Romance is him getting up first nearly every morning so that I get an extra half an hour in bed while he’s in the bathroom.

Romance is the fact that he don’t complain that I never pair the socks after the laundry because I hate it so much.

Romance is him chatting with me through gmail during the work day to see how my day is going.

Romance is when I go away for a weekend with the girls and he texts me four times in one evening to remind me that he misses me.

Romance is when he tells me I look good in answer to my tenth question in so many minutes.

Romance is enjoying sitting together in the semi-dark drinking whisky together before we go to bed.

Romance is him always remembering to get the sugar out for my coffee, even though he doesn’t take any sugar in his.

Romance is when he thinks it’s great that I’m the only woman not wearing all black at the fancy French birthday party we go to.

Romance is when I’m having an emotional day and he’ll sit in the middle of the floor with me while I cry snotty tears.

Romance is when he calls me nicknames in Danish that I only half understand.

Romance is the fact that he believes I am actually truly really awesome, even when I don’t.