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As I sit down to write about romance, my husband is snoring lightly by my side. It’s Friday night, we are in our late twenties and let me give you a breakdown of the evening.

• We ordered a pizza
• Watched Lord of the Rings for the fifth time
• The above was done only after going through our weekly expenditures and balancing the check book

Tonight, my husband has farted (loudly) in my presence, at least twice. I’ve stopped counting. Meanwhile, I am wearing scrub pants, an over-sized faded law school t-shirt of my mothers and holey socks.

Sexy!

Now, I don’t want you to think that this is our idea of romance. My husband and I have been dating/married for over 10 years. During this time we have had/do have our fair share of knee-buckling, spine-tingling, nauseating (to others) romance. We have stayed at plenty of romantic hotels and have dined by candlelight on the beach while gazing into each other’s eyes. We’ve declared our love for one another while skinny dipping by moonlight.

However, whenever I think of our most romantic stories…my mind seems to turn to the funnier moments.

Like the time Hubby gave me a ’spa in a box’ when I was feeling stressed. You unrolled a plastic sheet with holes and tubes attached, plunked it in your bathtub, plugged it into the wall and it was supposed to be just like a luxuriant whirlpool, blowing jets of water onto your tired muscles…only it sprayed water all over the room and nearly took out one of my eyes.

Or the time he wrote me an impassioned 3 page love letter, pouring out his heart and soul only to misspell my name at the end.

But, my favorite memory is from our very first year together. We were dating long distance, our love spanning the distance from Montana to Texas. I was 19 and he was 20. Young-ins, really. But, you couldn’t have told us that. We were convinced that what we had, NO ONE had experienced before…we had the most powerful most earth-shattering love that had ever existed and nothing, not even thousands of miles, would ever keep us apart.

Well, one night we had an intense argument…who knows about what. I didn’t hear from him for two whole days! This was an eternity when you consider that we talked several times a day, every day. I was convinced that we were through and in utter despair. I sat crying on the couch with my sympathetic roommates.

All of a sudden our front door is THROWN open and in strides the object of all this love and despair. He had driven 27 hours across the country in a day and a half to apologize. I flew over the couch to throw myself in his arms and in my haste…tripped and broke my ankle.

Our heart-felt reunion was postponed by a trip to the emergency room!

But, my heart still flips every time I think of him opening that door.

Photo credits to Made Underground , Chor Ip and Erin MC Hammer