I would vote myself to be the least romantic person you could ever hope not to meet.My first marriage was...hmmmmm...how to describe it: Painful. Scarring. Over but was still causing nightmares up until last year.I've written a bit about it here and there in this space. But that's not why we are here. Today is Valentine's Day and our friends over at The Daily Post made this demand:
It’s Valentine’s Day, so write an ode to someone or something you love. Bonus points for poetry!
I dedicate this to Christopher, my current husband. The rescuer. My life-laugh-mate, who is determined to turn me into a romantic (pray for him; he tries so hard...). I call it "Love is Like..."
There once was a man from New Jersey/whose lover was a big controversy/ This chick he bowled over/and married moreover/Now the world is all topsy-turvy.
Okay, okay, so it's not exactly a poem, but I should get some points for a limerick, right? So for those of you not in the know, here's the translation:The man: ChristopherControversial lover: me. Actually, less controversy, more nutty.Being bowled over: when I realized I actually liked this person (and I don't tend to like people easily), I was quite happy.Marriage: this was a second go-round for both of us; I know I hadn't planned on doing it again...Topsy-turvy: Well, let's see. I dragged him through a doctoral program (and for those of you who are married to people who are planning to go for a degree of any kind, much less a doctorate--you will be dragged along with them through the process. He came with me to various school functions around the country, has traveled when I would go present, walked with me through the process of changing my dissertation topic last-minute, was there through all the stress...yeah) and moved him across the country soon thereafter. And the saga continues...and he's still here. 'Nuff said.