Roo and Nate's Wedding Blog

Holy crap, we're getting hitched. How did this even happen?


Not a lot of people know this about me, but I’m secretly a hopeless romantic.

This romanticism is carefully hidden away and packaged under layers of pragmatism.  I like things and people to be direct and am often confused by people who don’t just say what they mean.  I am infuriated by media romances (TV, film, novels) in which the principles can’t seem to get their shit together enough to just say, “Hey, I like you. Do you like me?” and instead spend their time hopelessly mooning over someone who doesn’t know they exist.  What’s wrong with them that they can’t just march up to the object of their affection and say something?

There is this notion (driven by those media romances) that romance happens without verbal communication.  They will look up from their respective books in a coffee shop, their eyes will meet, they will realize that they are both reading the same edition of the Critique of Pure Reason, and then they’ll drop their half-caf-soy-lattes (hers with a shot of almond syrup) in the rush to fling themselves into one another’s arms.

This is ridiculous.

And yet, I still love romance novels and romantic comedies (the romantic tragedies usually involve someone doing something stupid for “love” when what they mean is “gross obsession”) when I can find the ones that aren’t utterly insipid.  The trappings of romance are ridiculous.  Love never is.*

Most of all, though, I love stories of romance between real people.

My family doesn’t have a lot of these stories (or if they do, no one ever tells me about them).  It’s one of the reasons I’m writing this blog: to tell the story of a romance, one which is silly (because Nate and I are nothing if not a bit silly), sweet, funny, and more than anything, full of love and laughter** both in copious quantities.

Every time I encounter one, it gives me hope for the future, for humanity, and such a spectacular fuzzy feeling inside. This one has been making the rounds of the internet, and I’ve bookmarked it and read it over and over again because it’s both funny and sweet, and it’s worth sharing.  Without further ado, I share The Second Date Story.

And if you have a romantic story (or several) to share, do so with abandon.  Love is always worth celebrating.

*Except sometimes when it is, and then it’s hysterical.
My favorite Irish toast is, “Here’s to me and here’s to you, and here’s to love and laughter; I’ll be true as long as you, and not a moment after.”


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4 thoughts on “Romanticism

  1. What a beautiful story.

  2. Dear Roo –

    First things first: thanks for linking to my essay. I really appreciate it. A surprising number of sites have linked to it over the past month, but I don’t think any of those links has had the “kismet” feel that yours did.

    The day of my parents anniversary I was well aware of why I *wrote* the Second Second date story; I wrote it for them. But as to why I went the extra step and posted it online? I’ve been wondering why I even bothered to do so for a while; in fact I almost didn’t. Our site is mainly designed for posts to start conversations in the comments section, usually about culture or politics – and my essay may be many things, but a conversation starter not so much. I was shocked and (I confess) excited when it went mini-viral, but I still haven’t been able to put my finger on why posted it online in the first place.

    After having just looked over your writing about your upcoming wedding, I have decided that the narrative I will be telling myself is that I posted it so that it would make it’s way to Roo and Nate’s Wedding Blog. Your musings about your and Nate’s past and future capture the spirit of what I had meant to encapsulate about my parents’ relationship, maybe even better than I have done myself.

    I wish both you and Nate long and happy future, and a totally kick-ass wedding.

    -Tod Kelly

  3. Tod,

    It was my pleasure to read the story and I am beyond happy that you shared it with the world. I read it yesterday (when it was linked from comments regarding Bruce Wayne’s physical) and then I reread it three or four times, leaving it open in a browser tab so I could go back to it throughout the day. Yesterday was the first day that I finally understood why I was writing this blog beyond a desire to disseminate information to friends and family – that love is worth sharing.

    Thank you for your kind words regarding my writing and I am so very pleased that you commented here.

    All the best,


  4. I am commenting because I consider myself some sort of friend. I got to watch you and Nate from a distance (perhaps a safe distance after having seen the cuteness that crops up). It is… reassuring, I suppose to see something like that. Yes, Roo, that is perilously close to compliment from me. You may have to pause now to make sure Nate isn’t having a coronary. I can wait.

    He still alive? Good! Though I would imagine he does a stellar Redd Fox impersonation. His pulse might feel thready, that’s okay, it’s normal.

    Back on topic, and how that ties in? Well, see the thrust of the media we look to for diversion does not adhere to real life. (as noticed by Kurt Vonnegut and relayed here: )

    Real life? And love in that context? It will really be flat for a viewing audience, unless of course that audience can relate to those experiences. But then we are post-modern aren’t we? The simulacra is more important that what it represents. Our ideals of love is not really love, but the jittery butterflies in your stomach, also known as anxiety. But since really real life doesn’t have such severe chasms and mountains, and is a relatively stable plain what we (not us specifically) want to see in our entertainment is that which isn’t real.

    So, about thready pulses. That what’s we want to feel, right? Part of how we define romance is the loss of control of ourselves. Our rational mind losing to irrational. That’s part of ideal. That’s why the fantasy is borderline obsessive (example: The Decemberists’ song, “Both Go Down Together,” is that about star crossed lovers of different social strata or is about an delusional and obsessive rich kid?)

    I think the issue is sometimes we define romanticism in it’s cliche unrealistic terms. That’s how I’ve defined it.

    Then I realized what it was, when it happened to me, I was standing in a foreign country, in an airport, walking up behind a woman I hadn’t seen in years, as she looked for me. When she turned and saw me, it wasn’t the look. It was her response, a quick, furtive reaching out to touch my chest, to confirm my existence. And then the realization that dawned on her face that she was acting out of character for herself, then she blushed, and I hugged her. There wasn’t butterflies, there was just finding each other I guess. A little disbelief at the situation, and her being embarrassed because she was being romantical. I didn’t mock her over it. Because I was being the same way. For me that is romance. Not sweeping gestures and obsession. It is who I want to curl up on the couch with and watch ninja movies (it totally rocked by the way).

    Or in the case of you, watch Mystery Men with.


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