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Are Your Love Rituals Healthy or Foolish?

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Did you really NOT know you aren’t supposed to grate the parmesan rind or did you do it so that I would never ask you again? — My loving, funny boyfriend, before being smothered with a pillow, c. 2021

My noob cooking skills are not under the lens here. The point is he was making dinner, which he always does, and I offered to help with small tasks, which I rarely do.

In the following paragraphs, you will face the confessions of a divorced cat lady and her memories of a materialistic friend. Because who else could teach you better about successful relationships than someone who came out of a miserable one?

Jokes aside, I hope that by the end of this text, you will understand that relationships need lots of little, daily positive interactions, and not some occasional grand gestures. And if you don’t, well, I just spelled that out for you.

. . .

February 14, 2013. My first Valentine’s Day with the one I would end up marrying 3 years later.

I go out of my way to celebrate an unforgettable romantic evening. I borrow money to get the sappy decorations, cute novelty gifts, kitchen utensils, and ingredients for the perfect dinner. For the first time in years, I dare to leave work early so that I can prepare everything.

My menu: Roast duck with Asian vegetable mix and heart-shaped polenta, Vanilla pudding hearts, and Strawberry champagne jelly mini-hearts.

My gifts: A heart-shaped fridge magnet with voice recording capabilities, and a “magic” egg in a can, that supposedly would sprout a bean with “I love you” on it. We will never know, as he never bothered to open it.

He didn’t eat the duck, because it wasn’t chicken breast, the only meat he would accept. And the Asian vegetables were unknown, so he passed on them too.

Plus, my favorite: “Oh, I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t know we were doing this.”

It left a bitter taste. Not the first, not the last, just one of many.

. . .

Intermezzo. A wounded friend’s story.

Almost a month into a new relationship, my super-materialistic friend Alice (not her real name) was faced with a dilemma. Her newly acquired wealthy boyfriend bought her the newest Galaxy model as a 1-month anniversary gift, and she didn’t know how to respond appropriately.

I lent her some money and went together shopping for a nice leather bracelet. It took us a while to find something that we both thought would be a good fit. Its value was about a tenth of that of the phone, but it was the most she could do.

He completely ignored the gift, leaving her perplexed. She later found out that he was mocking the bracelet with his friends, and that he had bought the same phone model as a gift for his gym trainer.

That’s when she decided to give him the phone back and break off the relationship. His reaction: “I hope you don’t expect me to give you the bracelet back, it’s not the same thing, it’s worthless compared to my gift.”

The most materialistic person I know — and the only one I still call a friend — refused an exaggerated gift that she really wanted and ended a relationship she thought she had dreamt of, all because of his lousy, snobbish attitude.

It turns out that spending a lot of money on gifts cannot replace feeling respected and cared about.

. . .

February 14, 2019. The last Valentine’s Day before my divorce.

He was at work and I was stuck at home, away from the city, with no driver’s license and no gift for him. My intention was to get it the week before, but he didn’t feel like going out together, so I had to resort to same-day shipping through an app that would later become a pandemic staple.

Our relationship was well on the rocks, and I figured a fun, smart boardgame would get us closer. When he came back from work, my gift was met with “Oh, I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t have time at all today, and I didn’t know what to get you anyway.”

He had no time or mood to play that board game in the weeks to come. Looking back on what determined me to put an end to that marriage, I realize that this “no time, no idea, no mood” attitude was a nail in the coffin too.

I didn’t need expensive jewelry. I didn’t need a dozen roses and a box of chocolates on the side. But I didn’t need indifference either.

. . .

It’s the small things

  • Doing house chores, like washing the dishes or taking the trash out.
  • Keeping up with the life of your significant other, their schedule, their likes, and their dislikes.
  • Making time for small interactions, whether it’s going for a walk or cooking together.
  • Being affectionate without expecting it to lead to sex: giving kisses, massages, hugs, and holding hands.

A bit of fragrance always clings to the hand that gives you roses. – Chinese Proverb

We often see cartoon depictions of men banging women with a bat on the head and dragging them by the hair to their cave for mating purposes. We laughed at this as children, and boys would pull on girls’ ponytails to get their attention.

Actually, there is no documented ritual showing us how cavemen acted in a relationship. I like to think that they would bring home what they had hunted and that offering dead animals was an act of love. I like to think that when they cooked the venison they were engaging in an act of love. Offering resources, offering fuel for life.

Perhaps the ritual of love is and always was to offer something the other needs most. I guess it can take the form of roses and chocolate if you don’t know each other very well. It can also work as a symbolic gesture of appreciating what the significant other means to you.

The best offering is, nevertheless, yourself. Your time, your warmth, your understanding, and your soothing words. Offering comfort and encouragement is my ritual of choice.

I have these now and all I want is to be able to give them back to the one I love most. Depression is taking a toll, but I know we will push through it together. Provided I learn what to grate and what not.

. . .

Looking back on your relationships, what’s your honest verdict? Have we stripped red roses and chocolates of their loving meaning by overusing them? Hell, I can be bought with a donut…

This post was previously published on Hello, Love.

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