A writing friend of mine, Cara Bristol, is currently running a contest on her website: Share your romantic story…enter to win an erotic romance. I stopped by her website to read the contest details and her latest blog. She is always great fun to read.
One specific sentence in the post stood out to me: “True romance isn’t what happens on Valentine’s Day but in the caring demonstrated every day.” So true.
I’m a romantic at heart and a keeper of stupid little souvenirs and things given to me from long ago. I have stashes of love letters written to me back in high school, basically falling apart mementos, rotting flowers, all of that stuff. They meant something to me at the time and I really should get rid of them…but I won’t. Some day it will be up to my daughter who inherits these “treasures” to toss them out.
I can’t say that I’ve added a lot of items to my stash over the years of being married. My husband isn’t big on buying cards, flowers, or candy. Oh, he’s bought a few over the many years. But I don’t hold my breath each year in anticipation of getting something for Valentine’s Day. Nor do I wait eagerly for some gift he bought me for my birthday (a week before Valentine’s Day). Or for our anniversary. Do I really care? No.
He gives me his time when I need to babble on about something. He goes with me to movies that really aren’t his thing (of course I go to his type of movies as well). We go out to eat together several times a week, usually, to catch up. And, most of all, I know how much he loves me without his having to verbalize it or give me something tangible. Our love for each other just is.