Potholes on the path to passion, rocks on the road to romance...all of us have found ourselves (or find ourselves) tripped up from time to time as we travel the trails toward true love. The stuff of romantic literature is mostly pure fiction, because in reality our romances fall somewhere between Harlequin territory and the tales of P. G. Wodehouse. (Which I suggest you read, if you never have - the man was prolific and there are plenty of his books to choose from - but I digress.) "True romances" are tales full of contradiction and miscues and frustration. We trip, we fall, and if brave enough to get up and try again and again, we just may get a crack at that happily ever after.
This month I'm celebrating an even twenty-four years of marriage, and I'm hoping Todd is too! In honour of our anniversary on the 25th of August I'm posting "Herbie's Romance" - a tale with almost as many twists and turns as our own courtship.
Like Hester, (the heroine in said tale), I was mistaken about what I really wanted in a mate. Luckily, I was smart enough to admit that I was wrong. (It doesn't happen all that often - ha! - so I can be gracious when it does!)
You see, about twenty-five years ago I sat my now husband down on a curb and told him in no uncertain terms that romance between us was a no go, and we were destined to remain nothing but friends. It was the same old story - he wanted me, my attentions were elsewhere - and by the time I realized I wanted him too he'd almost refocused his attentions on someone else.
I feasted spectacularly on crow the day I phoned him and told him that I'd changed my mind about the "only friends" thing, and he replied that he was "pleasantly surprised" by my change of heart. Romance ensued, and has (mostly) continued to this day.
So here's to the best man that a girl could ever be wrong (and right!) about....Happy Anniversary Toddy!
(Hope you all enjoy the poem...)
Herbie's Romance - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg (January '07)
Herbie fixed his sights on Hester, who embodied his desire -
While his starry eyes assessed her he could feel himself perspire.
For 'though his heart was ignited when he looked upon her face,
'twas a passion unrequited - of love she felt not a trace.
Not that she was heartless (really) - but like most in girlish youth
she was somewhat vain and silly and uncivilly uncouth.
All of his attempts to woo her won him nought but her disdain -
witticisms never drew her; she was once heard to complain,
"I grow weary when he chatters, he's intelligent enough,
but speaks much of mundane matters - I don't care about such stuff.
He's a bland and boring fellow ( although Ma thinks he's a prince...)
still, my knees don't turn to jello and to see him makes me wince."
This she spoke, but not unkindly did she view the lovestruck sap
who (she knew) worshipped her blindly - a discriminating chap!
Herbie's friends said he was dreaming, he would never win her hand -
he should stop his endless scheming - true love never went as planned.
"The path of love is rough and hard - " he mused to self morosely,
"It seems that I've in this regard miscalculated grossly.
She won't respond to wit or praise; with these I've not impressed her.
Therefore I must find better ways to woo my darling Hester.
She doesn't like the way I speak - her presence - it confounds me!
Too clumsily her glance I seek whenever she's around me."
Thus he did strive to court by stealth with ink profusely flowing.
(He hoped to restore mental health by worship never showing...)
In secret then he penned her praise with eloquence unstinting -
expounding in such varied ways his hand grew tired of printing!
Then he posted his epistle, but she never did reply.
"Her heart - it's like a thistle!" said he with a heartfelt sigh.
Night and day he concentrated on evicting her from mind,
but to see her he seemed fated and no respite could he find.
"It's no good!" he moaned, despairing, "Hester I just can't forget!
She's been ruthlessly uncaring, but this isn't finished yet!
She protests she's not attracted, yet it seems she's always near -
to my words she's not reacted, but she will not disappear!
She complains that I am boring and that I too often drone
and yet now that I'm ignoring she will NOT leave me alone!
Her behavior so contrary - only warm when I grow cold -
may for her be ordinary so perhaps I should be bold!"
Thus when questioned on intentions where fair Hester was concerned
He did not decline to mention how her interest he had spurned.
"Yes, she once held my affection, now I'm really not so sure -
her flaws merit more correction than my patience can endure.
She's too fluttery and flouncey, and a fearsome sort of flirt -
so abominably bouncy that she makes my poor head hurt!"
He denied his love for Hester 'til to all it did appear
that he must indeed detest her, and disinterest drew her near.
Like a fly in web of spider she was lured by his deceit.
The attention he denied her made her grovel at his feet.
If our hero had been tougher her abasement might amuse,
but too kind to let her suffer, past disdain he did excuse.
Gallantly he sprang to action, scooped his dearest off the floor,
and in proof of real attraction vowed he'd love her evermore.
Herbie held his contrite Hester (not uncivil now at all...) -
Though it took great will to best her, he now held her in his thrall.
In those eyes that once dismissed him, he stood brave, heroic - good!
And without a word she kissed him as a rescued maiden should.
