romance is important to me, future wife
Sometimes I think that they had it right, back in the day. What with courting and wooing and the like. I think I would have been good at that. (I also think I could have rocked the shit out of a fedora.) There were two hairstyle choices for men: crew cut and due for a crew cut. Things were built to last.
Things moved at a different pace.
I’m a romantic. It’s just a fact. I’ll always walk on the side nearest to traffic. Even if that involves doing that awkward shuffle step around you. I’ll remember your stuff. I’ll tell you I love you when I think it. Not when it’s convenient. Not when it makes my case. Not to get out of trouble.
I’ll hold your hand.
A little old-fashioned, maybe.
Things are different these days.
There’s the echo of ticks from over-wound biological clocks. There’s “always the bridesmaid”s. There’s a rush to get to an elusive “there.” There is access to everything all the time, right in your hand. There are phone-snapped digital proofs of “affection” hurriedly taken in a bathroom mirror after the heady cocktail of wine and “c’mon, please”s.
Technology abhors a mystery.
People share everything before they’ve shared anything. Really.
That doesn’t have to be us.
There are “intimate” things I’ll take no issue with. A large variety of bedroom stuff. l’ll hold your hair back when you puke. I’ll take care of you when you’re sick. I’ll share everything. It’s just…
I’ll never pee in front of you.
I want, for us, there to remain a slightly romantic air of mystery.
Also it’s just kinda icky.