Perhaps our greatest notoriety, as a couple, is the Queen’s and my perpetual wandering. Our social media timelines often resemble a vacation brochure of sorts depicting our travels near and far. More than once a stranger has walked up to me at the gym or on the street claiming to know me from the Queen’s Facebook page and a picture of she and I before some tropical or majestic canvas.
To say I’m a ‘money man’ is a tragic understatement. Not because I have a great deal of the stuff, you understand, but because I’m quite good at doing with what little I possess. This wasn’t always so. I received a trifling of financial advice from my parents and during high school I chose a dead language over learning to balance a checkbook.
This admission may come as a surprise for some – I don’t have a good relationship with the ex. One might think it would be better after a decade and our interwoven lives would be easing peacefully down their separate paths – this is not the case.
I chose it for the right reasons. It was close enough to my children but far enough from their mother. I would never mow a lawn or lay pine straw again. The rich onyx of the granite and doors gave off a masculine vibe sorely lacking in the others. But most important of all perhaps, it was new – symbolic of the life I was to begin.
It was January ’89 and I had just completed a tumultuous week of fraternity hell sealed by oath to never reveal what happened. After twelve final hours, aptly named Hell Night, of what I sometimes thought would be my death, the chaos ended in a drunken salutation that my blindfolded, beer soaked, humiliated pledge brothers and I were no longer toilet scum but members fraternally bonded in brotherhood.
Romance is very hard work; anyone who says otherwise is lying or not very good at it. To do so with reasonable hope of success demands intention, creativity, and humility. Romance doesn’t ‘just happen’ as Hollywood and Men’s Health want us to believe. The reason for this is simple, romance, before all else, is about the other person, to consider her wants and desires more than our own. Romance demands sacrifice; it means giving up things we want – something we aren’t naturally good at doing.