I'm a romantic, but don't buy me flowers

Finding a different kind of love language...

Hello, I’m Molly and I write about my slow and simple life in the Scottish Highlands. Subscribe for free to enjoy occasional posts from me. Or, better yet, join our slow community of kindred spirits to unlock ALL my content, including exclusive writing, videos and resources, to help you live the life you REALLY crave. We’d love you to join us for a cuppa…

As a teenager, I was unquestionably a romantic.

I fell hard for the dashing hero’s in my beloved books. Inhaled hundreds of chick flicks, relishing the same predicable happy endings again and again. I had no doubt in my mind that, when I grew up, my life would be overflowing with romance.

Then, I started dating. And it all changed.

I realised that, shock horror, most men were not the handsome princes or tortured ‘anti-hero’s’ (ahem, Heathcliff) that my stories had promised.

And, even more shockingly, it turned out that, even when I was presented with a romantic gesture (which were admittedly slim on the ground), I didn’t like it. In fact, they made me cringe. Hard. Perhaps I wasn’t a romantic after all?

Romance vs romantic love

According to Google, the definition of romance is -

“a feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love”

There is so much in this sentence that I adore.

My favourite escapism involves reading Gothic mysteries with flawed yet passionate love stories.

I’ve shared before my love of romanticising my own life wherever possible.

Yet, when it comes to traditional romantic gestures that are associated with love, I find myself running for the hills.

My issue with romance

Its cliched

My life has never been traditional. I work for myself full time as a creative. I’m a minimalist that lives in a Tiny Home, with no intention of taking on a mortgage. I don’t want children nor do I feel the need to have ambitious career goals. I’ve chosen a slower pace of life.

So, its not really a surprise that the idea of following the crowd when it comes to romantic relationships just doesn’t sit right.

I like to do things my own way and much prefer small, personal gestures of affection to ostentatious displays of love.

I’m a feminist

As a proud feminist, the modern dating scene is full of pitfalls.

Should we split the bill? Do I wait for them to contact me? Do I accept chivalrous gestures or tell them I can ‘open my own damn door thanks very much’.

Half the time, I can’t work out if I’m flattered or offended.

But of course, you can be a strong woman AND enjoy romance. I’ve seen it in my own circle of friends. Women who relish planning a big wedding and enjoy candlelit dinners, but are still formidable when it comes to standing by their values.

This is a lesson I’m slowly trying to learn. And that’s ok.

It just doesn’t suit me

To be honest, my main issue with traditional romance is that the standard gifts and activities just don’t suit me.

I’m someone who would always prefer a house plant (as long as its low maintenance - I am not a skilled plant mum) or a small bunch of local wildflowers (responsibly picked of course) over an extravagant bouquet from a high-end florist.

My preferred jewellery is hand woven friendship bracelets, not something expensive that I will inevitably lose or break, if I’m brave enough to wear it at all.

I don’t enjoy formal dinners. I never know what to wear, don’t drink alcohol and I want to be in bed by half 8 so I have enough time to read my book.

I’d much prefer a coffee in a cosy bookshop/café (where we have the option of reading if conversation dries up), or taking a flask of tea and homemade cake to a local nature spot.

The thought of hosting a big formal wedding makes me want to run away and hide in a corner, preferably with a book.

A different kind of love language

All this being said, its perhaps surprising that I’ve managed to be with my current partner for almost 6 years.

Flinching at romance doesn’t mean I’m afraid of commitment. Over time, we’ve found our own kind of love language.

My partner will fix my car, even if I only want to visit the local library and it happens to be pouring outside. He asks after my family. He makes me laugh when I’m hormonal and have already cried 6 times that morning. He always tells me how proud he is of me, even when I fail.

He’s never bought me flowers and doesn’t expect me to attend loud parties with him. We’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day or bought each other Christmas presents. The best birthday present he’s ever got me is my labeller that cost him £12.99.

We’ll never have a big wedding or perhaps a wedding at all.

When we discuss the future, we talk about building a home where we can grow our own food and indulge in our various hobbies, or go travelling with an ever-growing list of places we want to see - either together or separately.

Now we are bombarded with social media’s highlight reels, it can feel like there is more pressure than ever to shout about milestones or share extravagant gestures that we may not even want or enjoy.

Instead, I accept that I am a complicated human.

I will continue to swoon over Mr Darcy, but still open my own doors. And I’ll never let the outside world dictate the value of my relationship.

Sending love to all the other hopeless romantics out there,

Molly xx

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