Romance is on cream.

What a strange quiet journey into work. The mass exodus for the Easter break is clearly upon us, and after having eaten my first Easter Egg already last night (thanks Shipley, or should that be Ifty)I am totally ‘feeling it.

Last night I hurriedly packed my bags before preparing Dan a hearty dinner of erm, pre-packaged goods from M&S quickly heated in the oven and settling down to watch another fabulous episode of The Apprentice.

What to take to Scotland is a bit of a dilemma truth be told, it’s difficult to hit the correct balance of glamour and functionality. Why glamour in Scotland? Well, why not. And of course, there’s the fact that we’re bound to have a ‘lets all dress up and have a fancy dinner’ evening and I’m not about to be outdone by any of Steve’s other friends….ohhhhh no I’m not. Petty? Yes. But absolutely imperative.

Anyway, the topic of today’s blog is romance. Steve asked me the other day what romance was (slightly worrying maybe), or rather what my definition of romance was, and you know, it stumped me slightly. He also asked me if I thought he was romantic (to which I answered no) and what the most romantic thing he’d ever done for me was.

It got me ’a pondering.

Girls always harp on about wanting their men to be romantic, but what does this actually mean and if they got romance, would they actually like it, or would they feel a giddy mix of nausea and distrust most of the time (why the flowers? Why the dinner? What’s he done this time).

When I think of the truly cliché forms of romance, I think of things like coming home to find the bed sprinkled with rose petals and covered in sickly sweet scented candles, or having a fine dinner cooked and a table laid with crystal glasses and fancy napkins and the room gently lit by candle light , or maybe even being told to pack and whisked away to some undisclosed European city break, a bunch of roses/lilies/tulips delivered with the details of a restaurant booking for that evening, or the ultimate, being bought an outfit by your other half for a glam night out.

And honestly, when you read that list, didn’t you think…oh GOD….no?

We all desire the occasional romantic treat, but if someone insisted on sprinkling the bed linen with petals all the time, can you imagine how annoying that would be? All that cleaning and hovering and petal stains. You can keep it. And surprise trips away….no thanks. You’d miss out on all the exciting pre-planning of top places to visit and the lovely build up of anticipation.

So the answer to Steve’s question, what is the most romantic thing he’s ever done for me? Well. You know it was the letter he wrote me when we weren’t together, telling me how his life was incomplete without me. And you know what, it worked. It took a while, but it sunk in deeply and it worked. Sometimes a heartfelt expression of emotion is the most romantic thing. I’m not talking about a cheesy poem, but something someone has planned, and executed with excruciating levels of heartfeltness.

Funny, as perhaps I ought to have said taking me to Kenya, or The Maldives. But that doesn’t even come close in terms of romanticism which really gets to you.

Yesterday he announced that he’s taking me to Paris, well, he’s in Paris on business and did I want to come and meet him for 3 days afterwards which is a really lovely idea and yes, of course I bl**dy do. So I guess I ought to eat my words and I think I owe him an apology.

On the flip-side, what can us girls do to romance our men, or prospective men? I know Dan would be won over by a great folk music compilation with a natty homemade front cover, Jonathan would be bowled by the choice of an exceptionally good book, Dave would love a good new release of some video game and an extra ‘control’ for a night of intense passionate dual-gaming, Sam, well you’d just have to take him to an all you can eat place, but a good one, Tom, you’d get him a signed Man U shirt, Chequers, a year’s subscription to Casablancas, Stev/Gavin a life’s supply of weed. It would be so easy.

But none of these are ‘romantic’ per say.

So I guess what it boils down to, is that ‘romance’ is whatever someone you love does for you, which leaves a significant positive emotional impact, or if you like ‘La Fuzzy Feeling’.

From this I can deduce that if I had to put myself in Steve’s shoes and pick one thing I’d done which really hit the spot, it would be the PVC nurses outfit every time. Who says romance is dead?