Let's just get it out there - I hate the media. Whilst it's all very useful for letting us know what's out there, a lot of what society believes is created and perpetuated by the media. It has such a huge role in forming societal opinions yet takes no responsibility for it. The whole skinny model thing and the way it influences how we, as women, think we should look is just one example. This is a debate that I'm not going to get into right now because I know I will rant about this many, many times in the years to come as I stumble my way through the teenage years with my kids.
The idea of what romanticism is and means in my life is one that I have been mulling over quite a lot recently. I have always been a hopeless romantic and have always given Mr Rocker a tough time because he hasn't lived up to the standards that I believe he should have. Where have these standards come from, you may ask? THE MEDIA. So the poor man has had to listen to me bitch and moan for the last 20 years that he's not romantic enough. He doesn't buy flowers, he doesn't plan romantic dinners, he doesn't do candle-light unless there's a power cut and he certainly doesn't arrive bearing chocolate. I really did believe that all that 'romantic' stuff was needed for us to show each other how special the other one is. Glossy magazines, tv shows and chick flicks portray something very different to real life and I wanted that - if we weren't having the candle-lit dinners and bubble baths, we clearly weren't making enough of an effort. Never mind that we can't comfortably soak in our tub together! It's not that we're too big, modern tubs are just too damn small!
What a totally stupid cow I've been. While I've been whining about the way I think we should be behaving, I've totally missed the point. You see, in all the ways that matter he is the most romantic man I know. He works damn hard to provide for his family, he loves our children more than life itself and he loves me more than I could ever describe. I had been looking for all the stereotypical manifestations of what romantic love is about, because that's what I had been led to believe, and each and every day, in countless ways, I am shown how much he loves me. He quietly, gently and unfailingly is there for me. Through all my tantrums and emotional madness he's my rock and after all our years together he still wants me. No matter how this body is aging, he makes me feel like the sexiest woman alive. I feel like a goddess and isn't that an awesome space to be in?
What a brilliantly inciteful post.
ReplyDeleteI know exactly what you mean. I went for years thinking of all the things my husband didn't do. Which bits didn't measure up to my fantasy man. Then i had a really bad bout of depression and he was awesome. As soon as i was better i asked him to marry me. If you chase the dream you'll never find it, and you'll lose your man in the process.
M2M