February is a month for melting away the winter blues with some red hot romance. So I asked about 50 men and women to share three things: memories of their most romantic moments, their biggest flops and romantic dreams waiting to be realized.
“For our 5th anniversary, my wife gave me a coffee table book of the 500 greatest golf holes. As I paged through the pictures there was a card marking the 12th hole of Augusta National. The card was an invitation to play Augusta National, which is the dream of every golfer.”
What a cool gift. That was the most extravagant story. Several told of touching marriage proposals:
“After he asked me to marry him he gave me a puzzle that had a promise written on the back of it. I had to put the puzzle together to retrieve the message. ‘…Life is sometimes a puzzle and we will have to work hard to piece things together. I promise you that I will do my part! Let us never give up putting our puzzle together…’”
A vast majority of the most memorable romantic moments, however, were simple things made meaningful by their thoughtfulness: putting toothpaste on a toothbrush every night, helping with laundry or the dishes, making arrangements for a babysitter, posting love notes around the house.
• My husband brought me flowers and brownies he made from scratch and left them in my classroom.
• She spent an entire day from dawn to dusk with me and dogs doing the thing I love and enjoy the most - hunting pheasants.
• My husband picked a nice little bouquet of roses from our yard, arranged them and had them waiting for me along with a nice clean house.
I received dozens of responses and most of them cost little or nothing.
Among the most common romantic flops revealed were “dates” in front of the TV watching sports, obligatory gifts like flowers or chocolate, and gifts the giver enjoys more, like Nascar tickets or kitchen appliances. I once gave my husband nice sheets for his birthday -- the “sheetiest” gift ever.
The Archie Bunker award for worst romantic gesture goes to the guy who said he would propose using the same engagement ring his previous fiance had returned to him when they broke up.
Another romantic flop was just plain sad. My friend opened a fortune cookie at a Chinese restaurant that read, “Will you marry me.” The poor guy at the table text to her had special ordered that cookie to complete his Valentine’s Day proposal. The waitress delivered it to the wrong table.
Survey participants were fairly unanimous about the most desired romantic gestures. Topping this list, for men and women, is a surprise, pre-arranged trip or outing. Other popular gestures include a surprise clean house, a date doing something other than dinner and a movie, or anything homemade.
One man said the most romantic thing his wife can do is make intimacy a priority. I suspect many others would embrace this honest answer.
A couple things about this exercise surprised me. The response rate was really high, nearly 75 percent. People clearly enjoyed thinking about and sharing their romantic memories.
I didn’t expect so many men to respond. And I was surprised by the overall simplicity of the things people found most touching or desirable.
We’re told that men are from Mars and women are from Venus. But when it comes to romance, it seems both genders stand squarely on Earth. What we long for most are thoughtful expressions that demonstrate our loved one knows, understands and appreciates us.
Showing posts with label Relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Relationships. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
M-E-R-C-Y Spells Relief
This summer, I got in a big tussle with my husband Mike over the planning and coordinating of household projects and personal schedules. I can’t really remember the details. What I do remember is the tension that filled our car as all of us drove out to a friend’s lake cabin to spend one of the few beautiful Saturdays of the summer.
Traveling east out of Bismarck, I knew I needed to apologize, but I dreaded doing it and wasn’t sure how to start. Finally, I just said, “I’m sorry.” Just a few minutes after uttering those words the scuffle was over, the tension was gone. We were free to enjoy the rest of a fun day. What a relief.
This story had a happy ending largely because of the mercy Mike readily offered to me.
I’ve been thinking about mercy lately and what a desirable trait it is.
Mercy is vital to parenting, and hard to come by sometimes like at bedtime with overtired children who won’t give their overtired mom a break by going to sleep peacefully. Or with little boys who insist on wrestling in Target or Perkins or the pews in church. Or with a four-year-old who talks REALLY LOUD all the time to be sure he’s heard in the event he is interrupted (which he often is.)
Parents need a fountain of mercy to nurture the clumsy, compulsive, curious and tender hearts of their kids.
Mercy is also essential to good marriages and friendships. Everyone screws up and does things that are mean, selfish or arrogant at times. For any relationship to last and grow, mercy from both people involved must be in steady supply.
Perhaps one of the areas where mercy is most lacking today is in relationships with ourselves. We are ruthless in our personal judgments, obsessing on our physical flaws or financial shortcomings -- our nose is too big, hips are too wide, chest is too small, house is too modest, clothes are too dated. We dwell on mistakes we’ve made or compare ourselves to others who appear to be more put together or accomplished.
We can be merciless on ourselves for our failures or differences.
Considering how important mercy is in our lives, it’s too bad this trait isn’t more popularly pursued. Mercy sounds sort of old fashioned and “churchy” -- something you might read in the Bible or hear about on Sundays not something to cultivate like discipline, youth, or wealth.
Perhaps that’s because being merciful really challenges us. It doesn’t always come naturally and some might equate being merciful to being weak. It’s tough being merciful because it forces us to be humble and overlook distasteful faults in ourselves and others.
Mercy comes from those who are secure, compassionate and brave. How different our world and our community would be if we challenged ourselves to be more merciful with each other every day, at home, at work, with our colleagues and competitors, friends and enemies and with ourselves.
Insecurities might fade. Grudges and petty judgments would disappear. We would all be more free – free to enjoy what’s good in others and ourselves. What a relief.
Traveling east out of Bismarck, I knew I needed to apologize, but I dreaded doing it and wasn’t sure how to start. Finally, I just said, “I’m sorry.” Just a few minutes after uttering those words the scuffle was over, the tension was gone. We were free to enjoy the rest of a fun day. What a relief.
This story had a happy ending largely because of the mercy Mike readily offered to me.
I’ve been thinking about mercy lately and what a desirable trait it is.
Mercy is vital to parenting, and hard to come by sometimes like at bedtime with overtired children who won’t give their overtired mom a break by going to sleep peacefully. Or with little boys who insist on wrestling in Target or Perkins or the pews in church. Or with a four-year-old who talks REALLY LOUD all the time to be sure he’s heard in the event he is interrupted (which he often is.)
Parents need a fountain of mercy to nurture the clumsy, compulsive, curious and tender hearts of their kids.
Mercy is also essential to good marriages and friendships. Everyone screws up and does things that are mean, selfish or arrogant at times. For any relationship to last and grow, mercy from both people involved must be in steady supply.
Perhaps one of the areas where mercy is most lacking today is in relationships with ourselves. We are ruthless in our personal judgments, obsessing on our physical flaws or financial shortcomings -- our nose is too big, hips are too wide, chest is too small, house is too modest, clothes are too dated. We dwell on mistakes we’ve made or compare ourselves to others who appear to be more put together or accomplished.
We can be merciless on ourselves for our failures or differences.
Considering how important mercy is in our lives, it’s too bad this trait isn’t more popularly pursued. Mercy sounds sort of old fashioned and “churchy” -- something you might read in the Bible or hear about on Sundays not something to cultivate like discipline, youth, or wealth.
Perhaps that’s because being merciful really challenges us. It doesn’t always come naturally and some might equate being merciful to being weak. It’s tough being merciful because it forces us to be humble and overlook distasteful faults in ourselves and others.
Mercy comes from those who are secure, compassionate and brave. How different our world and our community would be if we challenged ourselves to be more merciful with each other every day, at home, at work, with our colleagues and competitors, friends and enemies and with ourselves.
Insecurities might fade. Grudges and petty judgments would disappear. We would all be more free – free to enjoy what’s good in others and ourselves. What a relief.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Friends: A choice and a treasure
"A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter; he who finds one finds a treasure." Sirach 6:14
One of my oldest pals, Schultzie, is in town. We’ve been friends for 26 years, ever since we met as mullet-wearing pre-pubescent junior high kids who shared a love for playing basketball and baking Christmas cookies.
From Thanksgiving through Christmas, we baked cookies almost every day after school. This tradition caught up with us in college. We once took pictures in a mall photo booth and tried to display as many of our cookie-induced chins as possible. When the machine spit out the strip of black and whites, they revealed at least 10 between us.
We laughed for hours at those awful pictures -- just one of countless such events that triggered stupid levels of laughter. Through high school, college and beyond, Schultzie was a pretty constant companion. We covered a lot of territory in those 12 years, growing from childhood to adulthood, and accumulated a hard drive full of memories.
When we were both just 19, our parents amazingly approved of us taking a five-week trip through Europe, largely un-chaperoned.
Credit cards were not yet an international currency, so we followed the “Europe on $20 a Day” plan. We were so nervous about running out of money we ate very little and walked everywhere. (This helped eliminate some of the chins.)
In Rome I remember staring at the carts of gelato, debating whether to eat supper or indulge in dessert because both would break the budget. Sensibility won out at first. But after errantly ordering potato pizza one night, we started ignoring our motherly voices and chose instead the largest-size bowls of Italian ice cream we could afford.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, who commented a lot about friendship, said the only way to have a friend is to be one. This is not so true of sisters, brothers, or parents. All of these relationships are gifts of birth. They are a lot better with effort of course, but they last a lifetime either way.
Spouses too are different, formally bound by a legal and/or spiritual pledge.
Friendship, on the other hand, is a choice. One that can be abandoned at any moment should either party so desire. That’s why friendships are so special. They are completely optional – held together only by mutual interest and good will.
As the years pass, the likelihood of sometime living across the street, across town or even across the state from my friend Schultzie dwindles. We’ll probably always live across the country.
But that’s okay. A lifelong friend is like a favorite pair of jeans that never wear out or become too tight. Days, weeks or even years might pass, but when you pull them on they still fit comfortably -- even if you’ve eaten too many Christmas cookies.
One of my oldest pals, Schultzie, is in town. We’ve been friends for 26 years, ever since we met as mullet-wearing pre-pubescent junior high kids who shared a love for playing basketball and baking Christmas cookies.
From Thanksgiving through Christmas, we baked cookies almost every day after school. This tradition caught up with us in college. We once took pictures in a mall photo booth and tried to display as many of our cookie-induced chins as possible. When the machine spit out the strip of black and whites, they revealed at least 10 between us.
We laughed for hours at those awful pictures -- just one of countless such events that triggered stupid levels of laughter. Through high school, college and beyond, Schultzie was a pretty constant companion. We covered a lot of territory in those 12 years, growing from childhood to adulthood, and accumulated a hard drive full of memories.
When we were both just 19, our parents amazingly approved of us taking a five-week trip through Europe, largely un-chaperoned.
Credit cards were not yet an international currency, so we followed the “Europe on $20 a Day” plan. We were so nervous about running out of money we ate very little and walked everywhere. (This helped eliminate some of the chins.)
In Rome I remember staring at the carts of gelato, debating whether to eat supper or indulge in dessert because both would break the budget. Sensibility won out at first. But after errantly ordering potato pizza one night, we started ignoring our motherly voices and chose instead the largest-size bowls of Italian ice cream we could afford.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, who commented a lot about friendship, said the only way to have a friend is to be one. This is not so true of sisters, brothers, or parents. All of these relationships are gifts of birth. They are a lot better with effort of course, but they last a lifetime either way.
Spouses too are different, formally bound by a legal and/or spiritual pledge.
Friendship, on the other hand, is a choice. One that can be abandoned at any moment should either party so desire. That’s why friendships are so special. They are completely optional – held together only by mutual interest and good will.
As the years pass, the likelihood of sometime living across the street, across town or even across the state from my friend Schultzie dwindles. We’ll probably always live across the country.
But that’s okay. A lifelong friend is like a favorite pair of jeans that never wear out or become too tight. Days, weeks or even years might pass, but when you pull them on they still fit comfortably -- even if you’ve eaten too many Christmas cookies.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Life Runs Like a River
It’s summer and that means one thing: family road trips
This weekend, we walked across the Mississippi River. Not on a bridge, but directly through the river from one side to the other. We accomplished this impressive feat at the river’s headwaters in Itasca State Park, of course, where the water is warm and clear and about 8 inches deep.
As we wandered down the infant stream I was able to stretch out my arms and touch the long grass on both banks of this famous river. Amazing!
Dozens of children played in the water. It’s a real-life “lazy river,” and they floated down the shallow, narrow stream beaming with the pure joy of childhood and summer.
As we walked back upstream, I was amazed by the force of the current. I thought it might be gentler at the beginning. That it would take some time to build momentum and force. Apparently not. Even at the onset, you can tell by the pull of this river that it is destined for greatness.
Walking through the headwaters of the Mississippi was oddly appropriate. I’ve been reflecting on the parallels between rivers and life this week, triggered by my dad’s 80th birthday and the celebration of my 10th wedding anniversary.
It’s hard to believe a decade has passed since my husband Mike and I got married. Despite a bunch of major life changes, we feel much the same.
On our anniversary day, we exchanged a couple off-key voicemail serenades. The chorus of one of them, an old Loggins and Messina song, rings through my head as I’m walking up the Mississippi. “And we go on and on, watching the river run. Further and further from things that we’ve done, leaving them one by one.”
I think of the last two decades. High school and college are ancient history. My years of being independent and single are long past. Our kids’ baby and toddler stages, too, are already over. This fall all of them will be in school.
And my dad’s 80th is a stark reminder that my parents are in the twilight of life – every day with them is precious.
When we got married, our dog Bogart was a spry young pup with gleaming chocolate-colored fur. Today, Bogart’s muzzle is completely white, his fur is faded and clumpy, and he struggles to sit, climb or stand up. A decade is forever for a dog.
I watch the waters of the Mississippi racing over my feet at the beginning of a 2,500 mile journey to the ocean, and I’m stuck by how fast my own river is racing. It can be sad to think about all the life stages already left behind.
But the chorus of the song continues. “We have just begun, watching the river run. Listening and learning and yearning, run river run.”
We are powerless to slow the rivers of life. We can’t build a dam to stop them. Which leaves us only to live in and appreciate the present -- to listen, learn, yearn and embrace our river’s flow.
So today, there are fish to catch, cards to play, and meals to share with our family and dear friends. Run river run.
This weekend, we walked across the Mississippi River. Not on a bridge, but directly through the river from one side to the other. We accomplished this impressive feat at the river’s headwaters in Itasca State Park, of course, where the water is warm and clear and about 8 inches deep.
As we wandered down the infant stream I was able to stretch out my arms and touch the long grass on both banks of this famous river. Amazing!
Dozens of children played in the water. It’s a real-life “lazy river,” and they floated down the shallow, narrow stream beaming with the pure joy of childhood and summer.
As we walked back upstream, I was amazed by the force of the current. I thought it might be gentler at the beginning. That it would take some time to build momentum and force. Apparently not. Even at the onset, you can tell by the pull of this river that it is destined for greatness.
Walking through the headwaters of the Mississippi was oddly appropriate. I’ve been reflecting on the parallels between rivers and life this week, triggered by my dad’s 80th birthday and the celebration of my 10th wedding anniversary.
It’s hard to believe a decade has passed since my husband Mike and I got married. Despite a bunch of major life changes, we feel much the same.
On our anniversary day, we exchanged a couple off-key voicemail serenades. The chorus of one of them, an old Loggins and Messina song, rings through my head as I’m walking up the Mississippi. “And we go on and on, watching the river run. Further and further from things that we’ve done, leaving them one by one.”
I think of the last two decades. High school and college are ancient history. My years of being independent and single are long past. Our kids’ baby and toddler stages, too, are already over. This fall all of them will be in school.
And my dad’s 80th is a stark reminder that my parents are in the twilight of life – every day with them is precious.
When we got married, our dog Bogart was a spry young pup with gleaming chocolate-colored fur. Today, Bogart’s muzzle is completely white, his fur is faded and clumpy, and he struggles to sit, climb or stand up. A decade is forever for a dog.
I watch the waters of the Mississippi racing over my feet at the beginning of a 2,500 mile journey to the ocean, and I’m stuck by how fast my own river is racing. It can be sad to think about all the life stages already left behind.
But the chorus of the song continues. “We have just begun, watching the river run. Listening and learning and yearning, run river run.”
We are powerless to slow the rivers of life. We can’t build a dam to stop them. Which leaves us only to live in and appreciate the present -- to listen, learn, yearn and embrace our river’s flow.
So today, there are fish to catch, cards to play, and meals to share with our family and dear friends. Run river run.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The Value of Wave Breakers
I almost drowned last month …OK, not really, but I swallowed enough water during a recent swim that I entertained the possibility I might drown.
I’m not a great swimmer, but it’s been my exercise of choice for nearly 10 years. The waves in the pool on this recent evening were terrible. I bobbed and weaved all over my lane, gulping water and getting dizzy and disoriented.
In the middle of my second lap I felt myself starting to panic. After just three lengths, I stopped at the wall, exhausted. What on earth was going on?
I felt like I was swimming in the ocean. As I looked around the pool, I counted only six people. Two teenage boys were attempting to swim the butterfly in the lanes right next to me. They weren’t very good at it, or very smooth.
Assuming they were the source of the waves, I stared at them a couple times hoping they would move over, give up or switch to an easier stroke. In true teenage form, they completely ignored me. Clearly, they couldn’t see the intensity of the glares behind my swim goggles.
I continued on. After a few more laps I was clinging to the edge again, trying to recover. I saw a guy four lanes over doing the same thing. “Why is it so wavy in here?” I yelled over at him.
“No lane ropes,” he said. I’m sure he felt like saying, “Duh, lady – didn’t you notice that?”
I had noticed, of course, but never imagined they were so important. I thought the ropes just organized the swimmers, and never realized they organized the waves too.
I wanted to quit and go home, but I had worked too hard to arrange this time at the pool and really wanted a swim. So, I told myself to stop being such a wimp and pushed away from the wall.
For the rest of that swim, when I wasn’t worrying about being swamped by a wave or passing out from dizziness, I thought about how valuable lane ropes are in the pool and in life.
Everyone needs the protection of lane ropes -- family, friends, mentors -- people who stand near, help keep us on course, break the waves, and strengthen us to stay afloat among the challenges that inevitably penetrate their barrier.
I’ve been blessed with a steady line of lane ropes, and hate to imagine how I would be today if I had lived fully exposed without the strong presence and love from family and friends who have been at my side breaking the waves.
A lot of people aren’t nearly as fortunate. Many, even in our own community, could use some extra wave breakers. A 30-minute swim was a good reminder to jump in the water more often for my neighbors to make their swimming a little bit smoother. Some money, a ride, a helping hand, even just a smile.
You never know when you might save someone from drowning.
I’m not a great swimmer, but it’s been my exercise of choice for nearly 10 years. The waves in the pool on this recent evening were terrible. I bobbed and weaved all over my lane, gulping water and getting dizzy and disoriented.
In the middle of my second lap I felt myself starting to panic. After just three lengths, I stopped at the wall, exhausted. What on earth was going on?
I felt like I was swimming in the ocean. As I looked around the pool, I counted only six people. Two teenage boys were attempting to swim the butterfly in the lanes right next to me. They weren’t very good at it, or very smooth.
Assuming they were the source of the waves, I stared at them a couple times hoping they would move over, give up or switch to an easier stroke. In true teenage form, they completely ignored me. Clearly, they couldn’t see the intensity of the glares behind my swim goggles.
I continued on. After a few more laps I was clinging to the edge again, trying to recover. I saw a guy four lanes over doing the same thing. “Why is it so wavy in here?” I yelled over at him.
“No lane ropes,” he said. I’m sure he felt like saying, “Duh, lady – didn’t you notice that?”
I had noticed, of course, but never imagined they were so important. I thought the ropes just organized the swimmers, and never realized they organized the waves too.
I wanted to quit and go home, but I had worked too hard to arrange this time at the pool and really wanted a swim. So, I told myself to stop being such a wimp and pushed away from the wall.
For the rest of that swim, when I wasn’t worrying about being swamped by a wave or passing out from dizziness, I thought about how valuable lane ropes are in the pool and in life.
Everyone needs the protection of lane ropes -- family, friends, mentors -- people who stand near, help keep us on course, break the waves, and strengthen us to stay afloat among the challenges that inevitably penetrate their barrier.
I’ve been blessed with a steady line of lane ropes, and hate to imagine how I would be today if I had lived fully exposed without the strong presence and love from family and friends who have been at my side breaking the waves.
A lot of people aren’t nearly as fortunate. Many, even in our own community, could use some extra wave breakers. A 30-minute swim was a good reminder to jump in the water more often for my neighbors to make their swimming a little bit smoother. Some money, a ride, a helping hand, even just a smile.
You never know when you might save someone from drowning.
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