Sitting on a beach watching the sunset. Sitting at Peets Coffee watching the kids playing in the fountains across the street. For people who ride bicycles as much as we do sitting still sounds like an oxymoron, but that's what we think is romantic.
Spending time together. Doing things that we both enjoy. When you are inlove the best gift is your time - no distractions.
I'd like to think I'm pretty romantic! In February my boyfriend went home to Australia for a month and it was pretty impossible for us to be in contact at all during that time - we couldn't even phone each other. So before he left I drew him a little picture (sometimes funny, sometimes sweet) with a note for him for everyday that he was there. Then I put them in separate envelopes and numbered them so he had one to open each day, that way he knew I was thinking of him (and I knew he was thinking of me for a least a few seconds everyday!)
I think any presents that you make yourself are romantic and show you've put a lot more time and thought in than just going to the shop to buy something. For Christmas I cross-stitched my boyfriend a picture of two Daleks (aliens from Doctor Who) with a heart between them, I also bought him some presents but the one I had made myself was his favourite as he could appreciate how much time it must have took. Making presents yourself is also a lot cheaper, of course, so that's another bonus too!
I'm agreeing with you 100% making presents by yourself is the best - because it's straight from heart I think! for me also romantic are surprises, of course connected with spending time together, like unannounced dinner, trip etc
what do you think?
A weekend away together in the mountains - or anywhere for that matter. Traveling of any sort always increases the intimacy between us.
A favorite romantic gift to or from my honey would go about like this:
The alarm clock rings. Sheesh, five o'clock sure comes fast some mornings. He rolls over with a groan as I pop up to turn the alarm off before it wakes the rest of the house. I jump back under the covers and nuzzle up to his warmth. He snickers and pushes me away. In one swift move, he rolls over and out of bed to get dressed for the day. Sitting on the edge of the bed he moans as he bends down to pull his favorite old boots on. I sure wish he would wear the new ones that I bought him two months ago. I rub his back trying to convince him to come back to bed. Just for a little while. He turns to kiss me soft and sweet and tucks me back into bed. He's out the door to make coffee and start the truck. I'm told not to move until he comes back with my favorite cup of morning coffee. I close my eyes and sigh. I think I've found the perfect man.
Predictably, I fall back to sleep wrapped up in soft down pillows and his Grandma's heavy handmade quilt. I'm awaken to a warm nuzzle in my hair. I sigh at the delicious aroma of my 'creamer with coffee'. My arms stretch high above my head and come down about his thick muscled neck and shoulders. He pulls me up and we chat a bit as I sip from my cup. He fills me in on how the truck was slow to start this morning so I'd better take a sweatshirt and a coat until the sun has a chance to warm the dew from the ground.
I dress quickly. He doesn't like to wait too long. I sit on the bench by the door to pull my boots on. He fills our travel mugs with coffee and out the door we go. I'm not getting why he has three rather then two horses pulled out and tied to the trailer. He's also a bit quiet this morning. Usually, he's cracking the jokes and I'm trying to wake up. This morning he doesn’t have much to say except a soft snicker as I trip over the crack in the cement AGAIN. I don't bother asking about the extra horse. Hell, he knows what he needs. Me? I'm just here to ride and do what I'm told. Actually, he refers to me as BOSS and takes my questions and opinions to mean that it will be done MY WAY or no way. That is, unless he has a pretty good reason why we can't do it my way. Either way, disagreement or not, he does it with a smile full of respect, sincerity, and admiration.
The radio is on. Not a whole lot of anything is said on the way to the north pasture. The horses are unloaded. The third horse looked to be our packhorse. Now he has my curiosity peaked. I try to steal a peek into the packsaddles when my man scares the snot out of me. We laugh as he sweeps me off my feet into a 180 degree swing away from the horses. He gently nudges me back to my mare so we can mount up and hit the trail before the sun starts to meander through the trees.
We chat some and even banter back and forth at each other teasingly. I’m surprised that colt hasn’t bucked him off yet with all of the goofing around we do. We always goof around and banter with each other. Not very many days go by that are not full of wrestling and causing trouble with each other no matter what the chore. Realistically I know that we have our disagreements and our battles, but the love and respect for each other’s feelings always brings us to eventually and mutually call a truce. We will both compromise to see both of our ideas in the end result. And we will laugh that we were so impatient and ornery over something so silly.
We ride several hours, checking all of those places that the girls like to bring their new babies into the world. It is turning out to be a gorgeous morning. All of the new calves are up on their feet with full bellies of warm milk. We’ve nearly ridden to the top of the peak that houses my favorite little Spring pond surrounded by a field of wild flowers. He kicks his ponies up into a lope. I wait just a split second so that I have to race to catch up to him. We jump the fallen tree and come to a screeching stop near the tallest tree by the pond. That was exhilarating.
He throws his leg over his young colt’s back to dismount and hold my horse as I dismount as well. He ties the horses to the trees. I just stand there and wonder how long he has been thinking about making today, just an ordinary day, into something so intimate and thoughtful. It’s not the norm for us to bring Bully as a packhorse. That sweet man of mine has brought a couple of blankets and a picnic basket.
Interrupting my thoughts, he comes to me. He lifts my chin to kiss my lips to his. Kisses, passionately wet and warm. He laughs as I tip his hat off of his head. He leans me back into the cool moist grass. His kisses are long and tantalizing. He teases me. He pulls back from our kiss just out of reach. This leaves me wanting more.
Therefore, my favorite gift to give or receive would be just to spend time with that man that loves me unconditionally. The little things are the things that are most important to me. I don’t want a dozen roses from the grocery store on Valentine’s Day. I want my man to bring handpicked wild flowers to me. He won’t hold back his affections just because I’ve fallen in the cow manure. He’ll still wrap those strong arms around me and kiss me so passionately that I get dizzy.
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