There is a lack of romance in my life. And since those little
cupid guys are slinging arrows all over the place, I’ve decided I
need to find romance.
There is a lack of romance in my life. And since those little cupid guys are slinging arrows all over the place, I’ve decided I need to find romance.
Truthfully, I find Valentine’s Day a bit annoying. What’s so romantic about a guy with wings, dressed in a diaper, flying around shooting arrows at people? You can poke an eye out with those things, you know. Sure, I like the chocolate aspect of Valentine’s Day, but I don’t know how chocolate means romance – for me, chocolate means a fat butt.
Flowers are nice – but roses this time of year? Give me a break. They are so expensive. Is that romance? Why spend your entire savings on flowers just because Hallmark tells you to?
So I decided to find out what romance is. I consulted several experts – no, not Cupid. I was afraid he’d shoot me in my chocolate-enhanced butt. I talked to some friends who are romance writers. They had some good advice, which I decided to share. After all, I can’t be the only person on earth who thinks romance is putting down the toilet seat or folding all the laundry without being asked, right?
My friend Barbara, whose writing is very romantic, has this advice, “Never go to bed angry.”
OK, I was hoping for something a little more hearts and flowery. I mean, Barbara is supposed to be an expert on romance and women. But I think she has a point here. If you are ticked off at your significant other, then don’t go to bed. Stay up all night arguing. This is the tried and true way to win any argument. Get the other person to be so exhausted he just gives up so he can sleep.
My friend Shirley, who has never seen a pink negligee that she didn’t laugh at, had this advice, “Spread rose petals on the bed.” Now this is more romance writer-ish, don’t you think? Of course, in my house that means that the dog was in the pot pourri again and has dragged it everywhere.
Finally, my friend Linda said this, “Line your hallway with candles, leading to your bathroom. Have a bubble bath and champagne waiting.”
Now that’s romance – if you are the heroine in a romance novel. In truth, somebody is going to knock over one of those candles in the hallway. And then the whole house will burn down. And does your significant other really need a lighted path to the tub? Shouldn’t he already know how to get there? If he doesn’t, you have more problems than a romance writer can solve.
Of course if you have kids, you know the only bubble bath in the house is “Mr. Bubble.” I’m sorry. Bathing in a vat of “Mr. Bubble” just isn’t romantic. You get out smelling like a very clean 4-year-old. I don’t even want to think about the ramifications of that.
And private time when you have kids? In Fantasyland, maybe. The minute your kids hear the bath water and smell “Mr. Bubble” wafting out of your bathroom, they want to take a bath. It doesn’t matter if the kids have been asleep for hours, they can smell the bath water and it wakes them immediately. Then they, and all their bath toys, magically appear in the bathroom doorway, demanding to know why the hallway is on fire and Daddy is in his underwear trying to pour buckets of “Mr. Bubble” on it.
Okay, I guess I still haven’t got the romance thing down. But I still like the chocolate. That’s a start, isn’t it?
Laurie Sontag is a Gilroy writer and mom who wishes parenthood had come with a how-to-guide. Her columns are syndicated. You can contact her at
La****@la**********.com
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