Funny Guy Friday... Mr. Romance...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband, Mark.  So, I married a funny guy...
     When Cheryl and I were first dating, I was living in Riva and working at the State's Attorney's Office in Upper Marlboro... and Cheryl was living in Bowie and working at the Labor Department in Washington D.C.  On most nights, we would hang out at my house until after midnight... even on school nights... then she would make the twenty-minute trip back to her house. We got into this nightly routine almost immediately after we met.
     We only dated for six weeks before becoming engaged so we were on the dating fast track.
     In those early days, I would go out to my car, in the morning, ready for work, and would often find a love note or better yet, a homemade crossword puzzle. Cheryl made the effort to drive home, prepare her note or puzzle and then wake early the next morning, drive in the opposite direction of where she worked, in order to leave me a surprise. A love surprise... if you will!
     The poor thing got no sleep. That's okay, she didn't need sleep. She was in love!!!
     I had her hook, line and sinker!!!
     Then we got married.
     Those first few months of marriage, we would wake up together every morning and prepare for the day. She would make my lunch, and she would always sneak in a little surprise. Every time I opened my lunch bag, I not only would I find my favorite foods, but I would find a napkin with a little love note or a romantic drawing.
     She was truly in love...with me! Just so we are clear,  
     I was telling my kids about how much their mother loved me and about how she took such care to prepare and leave these beautiful notes. Their response was a bit surprising.
     Oooh, oooh, oooh, gross! Stop, I don't want to hear that! La la la la la, I'm not listening!  
     Why is that gross? It is romantic! 
     It is only romantic when it is not your parents!
     I asked them why they would say such a thing... they see us everyday... they know that we are still romantic. More specifically, that Cheryl is still in love... with me!  Just to remain consistent about whom she loves.
     Then I had a rush of realization of the way things really are today... after twenty years of marriage... after three kids...
     There have many been nights... where... Cheryl falls asleep on the couch or in Noah's bed. When she does manage to make it to our bed, she takes all of the covers and most of the pillows. She rarely wakes up with me in the morning, unless I "accidentally" turn on Sports Center. If that happens, she rolls over, glares at me with one eye open and asks... Really? Really? 
     I am not even sure if she is awake or not, but I am sure that I had better turn off Sports Center.
     Many days, she is still in bed reading when I leave, so she never makes me breakfast; in fact, I have not eaten breakfast in more than fifteen years.
     I eat out for lunch every day, and no waitress has ever slipped me a love note or a romantic drawing  on a napkin. I have had a few smiley faces on my bill, but I am not counting those as anything more than pandering for a better tip.
     When I get home from work, Cheryl typically is wearing a tee shirt and a pair of sweats or shorts... and she almost always has her hair up in a pencil. That's right... I said pencil.
     As this flood of reality smacked me in the face, I turned to Cheryl and asked... What have you done for me lately?... in a romantic sense.
     Her response was touching.
     I sometimes iron your shirts... now be quiet!
     Of course, I threw the "be quiet" part in for comic relief, but the occasional ironing of the shirts part is true.
     That's it, you iron my shirts?
     I also bought you some socks that time.
     So that is what we have been reduced to.. shirts and socks?
     How come you don't stay up late with me, anymore? How come you don't send me love notes or make crossword puzzles, anymore? How come you don't make me lunch and send notes or drawings, any more?   
     You're lucky I iron your shirts and buy your socks.
     Seriously. I am asking you, why don't you ever do those things?
     Seriously? Let me ask you... have you ever (and she said "ever" in what I interpreted as a kind of a mean, accusatory voice) done any of those things for me?
     Huh? 
     Do you stay up late with me every night? Have you ever (the mean, accusatory "ever") sent me a love note... or made me a crossword puzzle... or ever (again... mean, accusatory) made my lunch and sent a note on a napkin? 
     I... I... I don't want to talk about it anymore!
     That's what I figured (and she said that in what I interpreted as a confident, victorious kind of voice).
     You know it is not a contest of who does the most romantic stuff for the other.
     If it were a contest, I would crush you... you don't do anything romantic.
     Oh yeah? That's all I had.
     I've done some romantic stuff for her.
     I know I've done stuff.
     I think I have done stuff.
     I am pretty sure that I have done some stuff.
     I have to have done some romantic stuff.
     I know. I buy her flowers whenever I go grocery shopping. Although to be honest, I only do that when Noah is with me. It is always Noah's idea to buy her flowers, and I just try to glob onto it. In fact, if truth be told, Noah always picks out the really expensive bouquets, and I end up steering him over to the cheapos or the "on sale" items from the flower department.
     But still, it is the thought that counts... even if it is Noah's thought.
     Okay, maybe I have to work a bit on the whole romance thing.
     Look, this is what I have learned, romance is not a contest and life sometimes gets in the way. I can accept that.
     I love Cheryl and she loves me... that should be enough. And if I can get my shirts ironed and get a nice new pair of socks out of the deal, I am good with that.
     Wait, wait, wait... forget all that.
     I just remembered; I give her massages. Massages are way more romantic than shirts and socks.
     I think I win.
     I win. I win. I win.
     I wonder if Cheryl will think that my winning is romantic.