I’ve never really been one for romance. Sure, I like the guy to treat me now and then, and the occasional bath by the glow of candlelight does of course have its value, but anymore shmaltz than that, and I start to feel slightly uncomfortable.
I’m in the happy position now where romance isn’t really a factor. We’re as settled and boring as they come. He farts in bed whilst I pretend to be annoyed but really, I couldn’t care less (most of the time, not after a night of Guinness). Sometimes I whinge about how I want to be whisked on a weekend away to a fancy hotel with giant pillows and fluffy bathrobes but then I remember that I’d miss X Factor and he’d miss playing X Box with the lads and I’m broke anyways – sure, we always can do it another time.
Sometimes I wonder if he’s just brainwashed all the princess out of me. My other friends in long term relationships are rather couply. They can’t go on a night out without having their ‘better’ half glued to their side. Every. single. weekend. When I was younger, I couldn’t quite work out if I was jealous of that or not. To have that unquenchable need to be with someone constantly, even when surrounded by your closest friends. With all due respect to my fella – it’s not for me. He’ll probably tell you the exact same thing.
Gradually I came to realise, that this is no bad thing. I think it’s a matter of respecting each other’s space and it means we enjoy each other’s company even more. Except, of course, when he farts in bed.
Over the years, I’ve come to realise that every relationship is different and thank God for that. Comparing and contrasting unquantifiable matters like love only leads to silly thoughts.
And with that, may I add a random image of the coolest ring I have seen in ages – my kinda rosemance:
*it must be noted – this ring is nothing to with engagement or marriage – I am not suggesting anything. seriously! I just like the ring*
ETA: Ring comes from here
AnneElicious 