A Practical Guide to Romance

When I first told my husband that I was going to take a stab at writing romantic comedies, he raised a skeptical brow. Not about the comedy part – he knew I was a goofball since our first date when I somehow managed to splash salsa all over his shirt. But romance? From me? The least romantic woman in the world?

It’s true that I’m down-to-earth. Practical. Pragmatic. Not a sappy cell in my body. (Okay, maybe one or two, but they rarely assert themselves.) Traditional romantic things fall flat with me. A bouquet of flowers? They’re pretty, sure, but after a few days the stems grow moldy in the vase and dried petals litter the tabletop and have to be cleaned up. Chocolate? Bring it on! But my selfish refusal to share kills the mood. Jewelry? I’m just as happy with cheap costume stuff. Chances are I’ll leave it on the coffee table and the dog will eat it anyway. And maybe it’s just me, but I’ve never quite understood the oft-seen reference in romance novel love scenes to a woman’s “perfect breasts.” What, exactly, would a “perfect” breast look like? Would it be voluptuous, round, and symmetrical? Petite and perky? A pointy torpedo-shaped ta-ta a la Madonna in her “Vogue” video? And why is there never a reference to a “perfect testicle?”

I feared I was the only woman on earth who felt this way. But I’ve since learned I’m not the only one who gets turned on when her guy does the dishes or mops the kitchen floor. Foreplay? Try vacuuming, baby. And gifts? Don’t waste your money on expensive trinkets or baubles. Get us something that makes our lives easier, like one of those under-the-bed shoe organizers or a lamp that turns on with a hand clap.

Nope, women in general aren’t nearly as complicated as men seem to think we are. Just help us out on occasion, show us some attention once in a while, and stand behind us, not in our way. That’s true romance.