I stared longingly at the enormous poster of a romantic young couple in the window of Banana Republic. They are wrapped in each other’s arms, their eyes are locked together and nothing else in the world seems to matter. Of course, they’re thin and sexy.
I’ve never been with a romantic man. Flowers, surprise trips to Paris, romantic dinners, holding hands in the street and breakfast in bed have not been integral parts of any of my relationships.
When Douglas got down on bended knee and proposed to me, I guess you could consider that to be romantic. When Edgar told me he loved me for the first time and gave me three pieces of jewelry that was romantic, too. And David did buy me flowers a few weeks after we met. But these were only gestures, perhaps not meaningless, but not indications of things to come.
Maybe the reason I’ve never connected with a romantic man is because I wasn’t interested. I don’t want to waste my FOF time analyzing why.