The morning after my wedding, my new husband arranged to have the caterers bring a breakfast tray to our apartment as a treat for me-a romantic surprise. Strawberries with cream, coffee, croissant, champagne-my perfect breakfast in a hotel. Because I was completely surprised, I still think now even 17 years later that it may have been the most romantic thing ever.
He was a romantic man-always sending me flowers and chocolates and long love letters and cards expressing his joy at having me in his life and how he loved me. He was the first man to treat me well that way and although I wasn't used to it, I liked it, liked being "spoiled" and I have to say I fell for it.
I hate holidays now. Valentine's Day, Birthdays, Mother's Day, Anniversaries are all just about me trying to wrestle my desire to be spoiled a bit and shown, if only in words some love and joy at being known with the reality of my man's attitude towards these days and I guess, toward me. It's a struggle to feel hopeful yet keep my expectations low. I hate that struggle, yet it is so hard to not want something from someone, especially when they are hiding it behind their backs.
It's hard always trying to shrink my heart so that it will fit into his.
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1 comment:
romance is dead.
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