I got an e-newsletter from someone in which she said that she told her husband long ago that he needed a date like Valentine's Day to be reminded of romance, then romance didn't have much meaning. And then she added that she only wanted a card, nothing more.
You know what I see? I see someone so worried that she's going to be disappointed by whatever her husband does that she controls the interaction. I see someone who expects her husband to read her mind, to just "know" when to please her and just how to do it.
That's part of the cult of spontaneity. Where did we get the idea that expressions of sexual interest and love are only legitimate if they occur without forethought? How ridiculous is that?
I'm going to guess it comes from watching movies, where audiences are charmed by surprises. (So what if the surprises are planned to the last detail by the writer, producer, and cast?)
But in real life--you know, where you and I actually exist--not much that happens is a big surprise. When it does, yes, it's delightful.
But the reason spontaneity is so special is because it only occurs once in a blue moon. If it happened all the time, believe me, we'd all be whining about needing things to be predictable.
Planning isn't any less romantic than surprise. Planning means you put thought and care into wanting to spend time together in a special way.
If you want more insight into the myths of sex, love, and intimacy, sign up for The Blog Erotic feed.
Comments