This is the week of my anniversaries. Yes, anniversaries. If you have been following my feeds, we just celebrated our wedding anniversary this week. Next week, we will celebrate our dating anniversary (yes, we are that cheesy)!
I call this time of the year my own personal valentine week. Having that said, I thought of writing on love, marriage and romance.
Most of us have grown up watching romantic movies and fantasized of our very own version of romance in our life. Be it a surprise date or a bouquet of flowers without an occasion, we all have fallen into that trap more than once, no?
I was the same. I once used to think love was defined by romance. Romance was fairy tales. I thought the more red roses were brought home, more was I loved. Or the more exotic dinner dates were, the more was love in our marriage. The more diamonds I got, more was I loved.
Well, I don’t own a big diamond. The last time I received a flower bouquet was years ago and there has not been an exotic dinner date since forever. For a very long time, I kept thinking these things were missing was because my husband did not love me enough. Duh!
But seven years into a marriage and two kids later I have realized how wrong I was. I have come to learn that my husband’s love for me cannot be measured in these impractical gifts that beautify my Instagram posts, not my marriage. In fact, my definition of romance has been wrong all along until now.
To be honest, it is not the expression of love in your fantasy that matters, it is the expression of love that you receive in your realities.
For instance, when my husband comes home to a pile of unfolded laundry on our bed and floors decorated with parts of my daughter’s kitchen and he does not make a fuss but starts picking them up with a smile that says “It’s ok, I got it”.
It is when my husband reminds me to put my seat belt on or be safe or when he deliberately gets late for work on a chaotic morning so that he can drop my daughter to school so that it is one less chore for me.
Or when I am officially about to lose my shit, he notices that I would need a few minutes without my kids breathing on my neck.
Or when he decides to arrange the shoe rack in our bedroom because no one can say when I will get around to doing it on my own.
Or when he changes an early morning diaper without me asking him to do.
It is when he brings back a beer and snacks when I have had a long day and cooking will be an obligation.
Love is when he goes out with his pals but has a drink with me at the end of the day so I don’t feel left out.
It is when he decides to comfort me rather than criticize or fight back when life is hard and my mood deteriorates.
What I am saying is romance is not shiny, luxurious or expensive. In fact, it is rather ordinary.
It is often shown by a partner who keeps showing up every day in spite of the mess and hard work that it needs. It is the million little things you do for your partner that are simply out of love.
So, my husband loves me and he makes sure to show it. And that is exactly what romance is all about, no?
Parenting & More By Disha Sethi 