For a long time, the idea of a man serenading a woman on her balcony, under a star lit sky usually made me laugh. As in a roll-my-eyes kind of laughter, not the giggly aww-that’s-so-cute kind.
I didn’t see the point of someone making a fool of himself just so a woman could flutter her eyelashes and tell herself she was sooo loved.
I mean, really! You don’t croon love songs to a girl unless you’re Jon Bon Jovi.
Or Neil Diamond.
Or Ronan Keating.
By the time I made it to my twenties, I was already quite the hard cynic. But, then I was a tough kid before that too, having been through many downs, and ups which didn’t come by that often.
So, calling myself a romantic was something I never did. In fact, I avoided even thinking I was one, or letting myself think I could be one. There wasn’t much that impressed me, and especially not the hearts and flowers type sentiments, nor the romance novels and movies, or any of that.
Falling in love happened, and so did heartbreak, and I mostly lectured myself to get over it, dusted myself off, chalked it down to ‘experience’ and moved on. Sometimes I faltered and imagined myself at age ninety and still not over that guy. But, hey who doesn’t
behave like a blithering idiot over some asshat at some point, right?
Every girl is allowed to make that one big mistake in her life.
Every girl should, in my opinion.
It really helps fine-tune your built-in Jerk Radar.
OK, OK! So, go ahead and make more than one mistake if your radar keeps malfunctioning. You’re allowed to do that too.
Society may judge you, but she’s an envious bitch. Ignore her.
So, back to serenading, which in the world of romance was not my favourite thing. It was high up there on my list of most hated romantic gestures undertaken by guys too chicken shit to climb a balcony.
Not that I wanted anyone to climb up the balcony to my house. – I lived on the fourth level of an apartment building and it was high.
Responsibility for Death By Hormonal Stupidity was not something I needed on my plate.
Imagine my surprise then, when I got home late one evening, took a nice hot shower and was indulging in a little star gazing (yeah right, I was not a romantic) as I hung my towel out to dry on the clothesline…
And, I heard a voice.
It’s amazing how you can speak right to my heart.
What? Whose heart? And, who was ruining the lovely quiet evening?
I peeked over the railing.
Without saying a word, you can light up the dark.
Of course, it was late evening, but really? I’m not that fair skinned to light up darkness. Neither am I a neon sign.
He was sitting on a step at the foot of the opposite building where he lived. Muddy, sweaty and rumpled. Obviously just back from a game of either volleyball or football.
With his best friend.
What it appeared like… to me.
Which couldn’t be since we were good friends of the buddies kind.
I checked to see if maybe there was some female in the balconies above and below mine. He was quite the renowned flirt and a new flavor each week was common for him. – But, no dice.
Apparently, the serenading was meant for me, either because he was bored or had decided to try drugs that evening.
I glared. – He sang louder.
You say it best, when you say nothing at all.
It was so off-key, I’m sure I heard Ronan Keating loading bullets into a gun so he could shoot himself.
In the mouth.
Doors opened and people appeared on balconies (yes, it was that loud). The best friend was grinning like an idiot and attempting back up vocals.
Psychopath kept butchering the love song.
Try as they may they can never define. What’s been said between your heart and mine.
I was laughing too hard by then to
go downstairs and kill him do anything. – Such a spectacle!
It finally ended and he stood up, blew me a kiss and disappeared into the elevator.
Still laughing, I turned to go back inside my room and encountered my mother, who clearly had witnessed the whole thing. She gave me a funny smile and said nothing. – A few years later she told me she’d been very sure at the time that ‘the boy’ was in love with me.
His best friend also told me it was when he too first suspected there were more than just feelings of “friendship” at play.
I still consider the serenading hilarious and downright idiotic, and one of those things friends do when they’re goofing off. Neither one of us imagined it would lead to anything.
But, did it have a romantic undertone to it? – I think it did somewhat.
Because, a number of years later that same best friend was Best Man at our wedding. And, the first song my husband and I chose to dance to on our wedding day was the same song.
Funny how things turn out, right? And, funnier how the subtle touch of romance can and does appear where you least expect it to.
Had I really been a fully hardened cynic, that evening would not have stayed on as a memorable moment years later. Nor would the song continue to hold so much meaning to me (or both of us really.)
I guess deep down inside I’ve always been a bit of a romantic. My husband certainly is one, but not without a good dose of humour which lessens the saccharin sweetness romance can sometimes bring with it.
Still, there is nothing wrong with feeling good, and romance in anything helps make that happen. From a beautiful sunset, a whacky serenade, or a dream wedding, it doesn’t matter… as long as you can and do feel it.
We’re about a month away from Valentine’s Day, so here on DW it’s going to be a celebration of romance in as many forms as we can manage till then.
So, look out for posts under the title Scent of Romance listed on our Celebrations Page.
You are all very welcome to join in with comments, thoughts, your own stories, suggestions and ideas if you wish to help us along.
Thank you for stopping by today.