The Computer Guy and I went out to dinner tonight. It was a relaxed evening in a casual restaurant. We talked a little, ate a little, and just caught up on what we're doing these days. (It's been busy around here.)
As we walked out of the restaurant and headed toward the car, I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow. The moment my hand brushed his bicep, he flexed. HE FLEXED! How cool is that? 15 years of marriage and 8 children (2 saints, 6 in training) later and he still wants to impress me. I smiled to myself as his muscle tightened beneath my hand.
In a world of passing fancies and one night stands, I'm still the girl he's wooing. I once thought that romance was hearts and flowers in a kind of perpetual Valentine's Day. 18 years together and I've learned that it's so much more. It's that he still wants me to think of him as my big, strong hero. He still wants to be 10 feet tall and bulletproof in my eyes. That's romance to me. It's a bit silly, but that flexing bicep was the most romantic thing I've seen all week.
I think he's pretty great, too. You can tell, because I still suck in my stomach every time he looks my way.