I’m going to tell you a secret: A secret that will seem stunning, coming from a man who writes romance novels:
I’m not romantic. At all.
This comes as no surprise to my wife, I’m sad to say. I do the
dishes, don’t mind going shopping, listen when she talks, and don’t
watch sports, but in this one area I’m sadly far too much like the
It’s worse during winter, a time during which I’m not very good at
anything, and tend to get sick and tired all
the time. Unfortunately for
me, some moron chose to place Valentine’s Day in February, right in the
middle of a time when my idea of romance is cuddling on my side instead
of my back, so I’m less likely to bother her by snoring.
But I do love her. She knows that, but even though Emily isn’t a
typical woman in some ways, she would like me to show it more often. Who
can blame her?
I could say that of course I love her, because—after all—I married
her. I mean, she knows I tend to be a hermit, and the single life is
But I have a good memory in some areas. Married men tend to convince
themselves that single life is great, but in reality they black out the
bad parts … the loneliness being the biggest of the bad parts. They’d
never admit to anyone, even themselves, that being single is only fun in
I was especially lucky, because my wife is a nerd, like me. (Or is it
geek? I can never keep them straight.) I’m not so much into gaming or
horror as she is, but we both like science fiction, reading, writing,
and humor, among other things.
I may not have the charm of Captain Picard, the hot bad boy-ness of
Dean Winchester, or the dark presence of Professor Snape, but mostly we
get each other. She’s even learned to tell when I’m not feeling well,
even when I try to hide it.
She doesn’t even mind my puns. Much. Usually.
Still, speaking of puns, you have to wonder why she’s willing to put
up with me. I have a hard time being serious; I have absolutely no idea
how to relax; thanks to my writing career I’m working two full time
jobs; and I’m twice her age, meaning my health is starting to fall apart
just as she’s looking for someone to go, say, cliff diving or shooting
the rapids. (Note to my wife: NO cliff diving.)
And her? She’s perfect.
Yes, I’m aware no one is actually perfect, although some think they
are. But I can’t imagine any woman being closer to a perfect match for
me. I shall, little by little and mostly in better weather, try to
correct the things I know she doesn’t like about me, not the least of
which being my less than romantic disposition. Maybe writing more
romantic comedies will help. In return, all I ask of Emily: Is that she
puts up with me.
And edit my stories.