Romance

Mrs G at Derfwad Manor provides my muse for today. She describes three achingly romantic occasions that will melt your heart. She asks her readers about the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to them. I knew instantly that I would make this my post today.

Not because I have an easy answer. I don't. I have heard a lot of romantic lines, but have also let some pretty unromantic actions disguised in candlelight, flowers, and plane tickets pass right on into the inner circle, no vetting, no recognition of danger signs, nothing. What can I say, I'm easily enchanted. You are so great that you almost make me want to say I love you. But as usual Mrs G brings out the best in everyone so I'm REFLECTING, and the good things are coming up.

In high school, I had a whirlwind romance with Rami. It was an eyes-met-across-crowded-room zinger. It was just how you think it will feel when you are in high school listening to Chicago tapes, knowing just how many milliseconds to press REWIND to get you back to the beginning of You're The Inspiration. We talked about nothing, about everything, standing outside Friendly's in the bitter cold. So alive! Our friends all forever talked about the night Nora and Rami met. Alas, it was not to be--a few lurvely and starcrossed months together would be all we would have. But it was romantic. I'm sure he must have said something romantic, but I don't remember a one liner to pass along. He was very sweet and earnest, even at the end. I adored him and wept for months when we split. I think all was for the best though, as his mother's name was Nora too. Imagine how I would be getting ready for the Nora who birthed my husband to come stay in my house? Oh my heavens.

When Jeff and I were first dating, he was in Boston and I was in DC. Because you know we met at karate practice and exchanged emails and one thing was just about leading to another. I was home sick, sniffling and generally having a big pity party. You know how on 30 Rock she gets all worried about choking to death in her apartment alone and nobody noticing? I was like that, sneezing all over everything in my high-rise apartment with the doorman named Boris. The phone rang. Chinese food delivery, please buzz me up. No, I didn't order anything. Some mistake. No, this is right--your boyfriend ordered it. And up comes a big tub of Chinese chicken noodle soup that Jeff had ordered all the way from Boston. That was the first time anyone, including either of us, ever called him my boyfriend. And it was the best soup I ever had.

When I got accepted to graduate school in Seattle, Jeff and I were on the outs. We were done. Except then he dropped everything and followed me to Seattle to ask for another chance, with no promise and very little encouragement. He respected my wishes and my space, he did everything he said he would, he didn't turn away from my pain at our split. He worked at Starbucks. He came to my office one day to take me to lunch and while we were out there was a mural on the side of a building painted around a dictionary definition of the word "home." And he pointed to my heart and said that was his home. That was really cool.

Thanks, Mrs G!