Make Normal Items Romantic Again

When my parents got married (they are now divorced, but this still applies), they were trying to figure out where to register their gift registry. My dad jokingly provided Sears as an answer, thinking that would be ridiculous. My mom looked at him dead in the eye and said, “If the guests can buy us all of our new appliances, why shouldn’t we?” I think that the ability to choose Sears for their wedding registry was one of the most romantic gifts my father gave her.  

When David Sedaris bought his husband, Hugh, a real skeleton in the chapter "Memento Mori" (150-153), I realized how romantic this was for him. Not to say that buying a skeleton is the way to my heart (because it isn’t—don’t even entertain the thought), but the fact that he bought something he knew his husband wanted, even if the object in question was probably procured by devious means, was incredibly sweet. Yes, yes, I know I shouldn’t assume that the skeleton wasn’t voluntarily given to the store—for all we know, it was someone’s last wish that their bones be sold for profit (even three-hundred years ago, which I believe would have been the early 1700s).  

But that’s not my point. 

Romantic gestures tend to be advertised a certain way. Chocolates, wine, and flower arrangements are marketed towards couples in their mid to late thirties; risqué items such as lingerie and sex toys are marketed towards younger couples in their twenties and maybe early thirties; anyone between the ages of 50-70 are encouraged to partake in a romantic cruise in the coldest parts of the planet; and of course, the infamous valentine’s day cards used in schools across the country are primarily for small children with candy taped to the inside of them (which aren’t inherently romantic unless you’re a hopeless romantic and believe your elementary school crush gave you a valentine because he liked you, even though he had to give everyone in the class one, so what makes you so special? Even though you definitely gave him more candy inside the valentine, did anything come of it? No, because why would it?). 

Wow, I’m really not on topic today, am I?  

To get back to the point I was trying to convey, there’s something missing from this entire idea of romantic gestures. Gifts like portable vacuums, vases with dragon designs, replacement screwdrivers for your tool kit, and human skeletons are so specific that they can’t be marketed to a large enough audience. Cruises, flowers, and chocolates are all generic enough that companies can find large enough audiences that will buy their products. Toolkits are associated more with Father’s Day gifts, even though I know for a fact that even if your dad does use tools, he will not use the tool you bought him until the one he already has breaks (not if it goes missing, though because there is still hope that it’s around that garage somewhere!); furniture is for people to buy themselves or for house warmings, not because your romantic partner really wants a table specifically for Monopoly or card games; and getting your partner a “As Seen on TV” item doesn’t seem like a good idea because it seems impersonal. 

I challenge everyone reading this post to come up with three items you really want and think about how you would feel if your romantic partner or romantic interest bought you those items. Yeah, that feels pretty good, huh? It’s swoon-worthy. I refuse to bat an eye when someone gives me flowers, but if that same person gave me a bag of kiwis, a large bowl of (gluten-free) pad thai, and a back massage, then maybe I’d think about our relationship differently.