Roo and Nate's Wedding Blog

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

Archive for the tag “communication styles”

Romanticism

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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Carrot Cake

Or: The Hookup

Or: Why Life Isn’t and Shouldn’t Be Like a Romantic Comedy

Nate’s and my official courtship started over carrot cake, as has almost every major milestone of our relationship.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m not one for mincing words or circumlocution and our relationship is, at least in part, a product of my desire for extremely clear communication.  I try to say what I mean and mean what I say. There’s a tendency to assume that men are very clear communicators and women are not, but in our relationship, much like our wedding and hopefully, our marriage, we’re tossing out all the things that don’t make a great deal of sense. And not talking about the shit that is going on is one of those things.

So when Nate and I had been meeting for a swing dance class and coffee and carrot cake afterward (or more often, working our way through Au Coquelet‘s jabillions of italian soda syrup flavors) for awhile; after we had disentangled ourselves from our prior relationships; after we had been going over to each other’s homes and just as often crashing (platonically) in each other’s beds for months; and just before we went on a trip to Chicago together, Nate and I were sitting in the coffee shop, sharing a piece of carrot cake, and laughing about some of the hijinks we planned to get up to in Chicago.

To something I had said, Nate replied, “Well, it’s not as if we’re dating yet.”

If this were a romance novel (with which I have unfortunate and embarrassing love affairs) or a romantic comedy film, one of two things would have happened:

Option 1:  We would have stared across the table at each other, forgetting that last little piece of carrot cake that prior to this moment we had been carefully taking little pieces of, until it was just a tiny speck of frosting, trying desperately not to be the one who ate the last bite. Our eyes would have met and we’d lean across and kiss each other, knowing, without words, that this was the moment that everything would change!

Option 2: I would have changed the subject and pretended that nothing happened. Later, over a pint of ice cream, I’d have carefully and cautiously dissected every word of the conversation and quoted High Fidelity at myself while I determined what Nate had meant when he said, “yet”.  I probably would have called my Best Friend ™, who would have given me terrible dating advice while simultaneously proven that she was more of a whore than I could ever hope to be. (Unless she was the ugly best friend, in which case she would have given me slightly better advice, but would have been jealous of me. Later she’d try to undermine my relationship, but the power of love would have persevered and I’d have forgiven her perfidy because I’m a better person.)

Fortunately, this is not a romance novel nor a romantic comedy. Instead, I placed my hands down on either side of the plate, leaned forward, and said, “So, I can’t help but notice that we’re moving in this direction.  Are you interested in pursuing this? Because I am.”

Given that you’re reading this on our wedding blog, you may take it as given that it all worked out from there.

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