No Man Is A Romance Novel.

My new brilliant thought.

No man is a romance novel.

I used to read a romance novel almost every night.

I would dream of the day I met my future husband.

He would bring me flowers all the time.

He would cook romantic candlelit dinners.

Give me back and foot rubs whenever I had a hard day at work.

He would hold my face and give me that great Rom-Com movie kiss.

Wow. Wow oh wow oh wow.

I was a silly goose.

I can no longer read those books.

I have discovered the actual meaning of romance.

It isn’t useless flowers that die after a couple days, or candlelit dinners that require hours of cleanup. Yes, a back rub would be nice every once in a while, same with a bouquet of flowers, but it isn’t necessary.

To me, romance means hanging my expensive ‘under garments’ to dry instead of throwing them in the dryer.

It means buying me a Wild Cherry Pepsi when I haven’t asked for one.

It’s buying me Strawberry Fruit Gushers when work has really sucked.

It is so much more and more simple than those cheesy lying books would have ever made me believe.

The romance in novels isn’t real.

Romance isn’t in the grand gestures, romance is in the small things.

No man is a romance novel.

And that’s okay with me.

 

 

 

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