Today HatGirl told me that I was craftily romantic.
When I got home, I went to dictionary.com to see if craftily was a real word. Indeed it is. So everyone please note the big brain on HatGirl. Beauty and brains. No wonder I like her.
Anyway, I became a little concerned when I read the first definition given for crafty:
skillful in underhand or evil schemes; cunning; deceitful; sly.Doesn't seem like a ringing endorsement, does it?
But, since my brain absolutely refused to ingest any thought that might indicate disapproval by HatGirl, I decided to take it as a compliment. I'm pretty sure that's what was intended anyway. Kinda sorta.
Come to think of it, I probably should have tried harder to be insulted. I need some more drama in my life.
But I didn't.
Instead, I decided to write this boring no-drama-having entry about being romantic.
When I was young, I used to bring my ex-wife roses. All the fucking time. Every Tuesday. Every Thursday. The 18th of every month. The 5th of every month. Sometimes just for the fuck of it. I thought, back then, that I was being romantic. But I wasn't. What I was being was needy and clingy. Though I didn't know it at the time, I was trying to save a doomed relationship.
The context of my attempted romanticism prevented it from being real at all.
Now that I'm a lot older and a little wiser, I think that romance should be spontaneous. It should never be needed. It should never be in response to anything. It should just happen. A tiny unexpected gesture that comes out of the blue and, for a few seconds or minutes or hours, completely disarms the girl.
Almost a year ago I wrote about a time I did something romantic. I think that was when I really started to recognize the power of romance. I began to watch for opportunities.
Opportunities for spontaneity. There's an oxymoron if I ever saw one. But that's what they were.
That thing with the card, that was a pretty grand gesture. It shouldn't have worked. It should have scared her off, once the initial shock had dissipated. And I suppose that it did, a little. It was weeks before I heard from that girl again.
It was too much, too soon. I had nothing to back it up. Nothing to top it.
I've gotten a lot better over the years. When I want to, I can sweep a girl off her feet. That's not me being cocky or egotistical. It's just me being honest. The hard part for me is wanting to do it. So few girls seem worth the effort.
Shit, I even did something romantic for LaptopGirl once. It was, of course, ignored. Because it was too late. It wasn't spontaneous. It was an attempt to fix something. It was needy and clingy.
But my shining moments, my shining moments were all with MixedSignalGirl. We've talked about it a lot. She really brought out the romantic in me. She was always surprised, every single time. And she'd smile and the room would light up. She told me that she'd go for days and it would seem that her feet would never touch the ground.
But, in the end, it wasn't enough. That cake was almost all frosting. For both of us.
Fuck. Now I'm in a bad mood. I think I'll stop writing now.
I forget where I was going with this entry anyway.
Probably somewhere stupid.