Domestic Romance

Chicken Soup for the Soul: True Love

BY: David Martin

Only two things are necessary to keep one's wife happy.
One is to let her think she is having her own way, the other, to let her have it.
~Lyndon B. Johnson

In my ongoing attempts to bridge the linguistic chasm between the sexes, I thought I had the meaning of one word down pat: "romantic." After all, how hard is it to define that word?

"Romantic" is a moonlit walk hand-in-hand along the beach. Or a quiet candlelit dinner for two at a quaint out-of-the-way country inn. Or a late night torch-lit champagne dip in a backyard whirlpool.

Whatever "romantic" meant, I knew it had to be at night, involve my wife and include a word ending with the suffix "lit." Even a flashlight-lit night camping in a tent should qualify by my reckoning.

But apparently "romantic" has a far more flexible and mysterious meaning if my wife's lexicon is any indication.

On more than one occasion, Cheryl has suggested some work-related endeavor that the two of us could pursue together. Something like digging up the garden or assembling a piece of IKEA furniture. When proposing such a project, she invariably closes by saying, "It would be romantic."

At first, I always thought she was kidding. After all, sweating, grunting, and groaning while holding a hammer, saw, or shovel does not seem romantic to me in the least unless, of course, it involves some slightly kinky sexual role-playing.

But I'm now convinced that my wife really means it when she says that performing household chores together will be romantic.

Recently Cheryl mentioned that the apple tree in our backyard desperately needed some major trimming. Notwithstanding it was the first day of my holidays, I foolishly suggested we rent a chainsaw and cut the offending branches. "Yes," said Cheryl, jumping at my offer. "That would be romantic."

So we headed off to the hardware store where we picked up a chainsaw and some chainsaw oil. Since the rental was for four hours, the only thing I had in mind was getting home and getting the job done as quickly as possible. Cheryl, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the romance of the moment.

For our romantic encounter, I donned work boots, old pants, a red flannel work shirt, and a pair of work gloves. In my mind, this was undoubtedly the least sexy outfit I had ever worn, except perhaps for my gardening ensemble which features rubber boots and a silly hat. But for Cheryl, it was apparently akin to a knight in shining armor.

Four hours later, we had removed and trimmed two large branches from our apple tree and a couple of smaller ones from the neighboring birch. Tied-up bundles of branches and two bags of leaves, twigs and apples ended up at the curb for pickup and some prime firewood was delivered to a neighbor for his fireplace.

At the end of our afternoon of torture, I found myself sweaty and exhausted. Years ago, I might have considered that an apt description of a romantic encounter. But since this one involved a chainsaw and a ladder, it was hard for me to find the romance in the now-completed task.

Yet Cheryl persisted in her belief that our afternoon chore had been romantic. Since it took place before sunset and there was no extra light involved (apart from the sunlight reflecting off my sweat-soaked brow), I failed to see how it qualified. To me, the only common denominators seemed to be that I had to wear protection and I needed to take a shower after it was over. But I sure didn't have that satisfied feeling I usually associate with romance.

After our latest romantic afternoon, however, I think I have a better handle on the meaning of the word "romantic." It doesn't necessarily have to occur at night with soft lighting. Apparently it can happen any time so long as it involves the two of us and some measure of extended physical exertion.

As I now see it, romance simply involves togetherness. So to husbands everywhere, the next time you want to sweep your wife off her feet, forget about candies, flowers, dining and dancing. All you have to do is say: "Honey, let's clean out the septic tank." It may sound like work to you, but trust me, it will be sweet music to her ears.

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