When Ms. Romantic meets Mr. Practical, look at the SPARKS that flew!!! On how they’d, interacted with each other in marriage, translated…
He was once, such, a romantic man, as he’d served in Hualien, he’d gone to the beaches, picked the ginger lilies, recorded the sound of the waves, hitting the shores, express mailed it to middle Taiwan. As I received his love letter, I’d heard the waves, which turned into his sweet whispers into my ears, and on the pure white flower petals, the dews still, fresh, the aromas were, very comforting, and, my heart was, his.
Even after we were wed, his romantic gestures didn’t stop. On our second anniversary, he’d used his lunch hour, came home, arranged a bundle of roses, with a pink card, wrote his love and blessings for me in English, and asked me out to a dinner date; as I came home from work and saw this surprise, the waves of bliss took over me, I was, so very, moved by his gestures!
And yet, my romantic gestures only, stayed on the verbal front, “How intelligent you are? It’s wonderful, to have you as my husband!” my willingness to cook, and clean, and bend over to pick up each and every one of his socks, was MY practical way of replying to his romantic gestures toward me.
But, when had, our roles switched, last year, I’d injured myself, had cholecystitis, his romanticism turned to practicality. He’d taken me to the hospitals, I’d waited for a whole day, the long, never ending wait, drove me nuts, he’d still, kept calm, took care of me, took me to the bathrooms, to get a drink, wheeled me around the hospital, for the X-rays, the ultrasound, the blood test, had a conference with the anesthesiologist, didn’t get his lunch until four in the afternoon. I was truly grateful for him, he’d told me, that because we are to stay together until the very end, our health and being there for one another, is the most important of all, that was, his, practical side. After we got home, he’d, started, snoring on the couch, fast asleep, I’d, brought over a thin quilt, to keep him warm, and, gave him, a gentle peck on the cheeks, this was, my romantic gestures, toward his taking care of me.
Aftermy surgery, the doctor told me to stay off greasy foods, I’d had, nothing but bland,plain foods by the day, like that monk from the hero’s tale, “I can puke outbirds now I don’t taste anything!”, finally, my birthday came, I’d, imagined tohave a candlelight dinner, but he’d, followed the doctor’s orders for me, andso, my “birthday celebration meal” was, porridge with steamed vegetables, for abetter and longer future, I’d, caved to, his practicality.
On the day we had the meal, I’d, looked into his eyes lovingly, said, “hey, there are some silvers, mixed in with your black, you look good!”, and made fun of myself, “because there’s love that I feel, so, you look handsome in any sense!”, he was, so focused on eating his food, said to me, “Focus on eating your meal, don’t get distracted, it’s not good for your digestion!”
Yep, so, the two of you are very matched, one of you being practical, the other one, romantic, and, the two of you, balanced each other out, complimented each other, because, if you only have romance, that gets you nowhere, and if you are too practical, then, life becomes, kinda dry, so, it’s a good thing, that your romanticism matched up with your husband’s practicality!