In Honor of Romance

Given MM's amazing over-the-top wooing of his wife, which he recently detailed, and the hate mail it garnered from angry men, I began to think about the most romantic thing that had been done for me. And that's were things get tricky. Because technically speaking, the grandest gesture I ever received wasn't from The Banker. (And here's where I'm super glad he doesn't read my blog with any regularity.)

It all started when The Banker and I decided to take a break, around the time of our junior year of college. We'd taken breaks before, but none had proved very effective. After a few agonizing days, he'd apologize, I'd relent, and we'd move on. But this break would be different, and entirely enforceable. See, I'd be traveling half way around the world just to ensure I meant it this time. A semester abroad. In Australia. Where the accents drop undies in two seconds flat. (Not that it did. Or I did. Or whatever.) And have you seen the adverts for The Thunder From Down Under? So needless to say, this time the break would be vastly more effective.

Over six months passed in the most beautiful country I'd ever seen. I lived with six strangers, forced to live in an apartment, (are you getting my drift here, MTV nation?!). We were all from different countries--England, Malaysia, Sweden, China, Australia, and the U.S.A. And let me just say, while the Aussie (or English, Scottish, or Irish) is make-your-legs-turn-to-jelly for Americans, apparently our accent is pretty exotic to them, too. I fared well in Australia and New Zealand. Very well. Something about the country, the experience, brought out the best in me, and it showed. There was that time in the club where I was dressed like a cat, and a chick grabbed the chain attached to my collar... (Let's save that one for another time, shall we? Double thank goodness that my family doesn't read blogs, either.)

But somehow I thought the experience would have been better, more fulfilling, if I could share it with someone. And I wanted to share it with The Banker. Over a thousand dollar long-distance bill later, The Banker and I decided we were on again, despite the incredible distance between us. (My parents never complained about that bill, oddly enough. They complained about everything else, but strangely, not that.)

But this news didn't sit very well with my Aussie roommate. We'd become quite close, he and I, and while nothing ever happened between us, it was no secret the way he felt. We would talk late into the night, and I would encourage him to do something big, to get out of this town and discover the rest of the world. You've got so much growing to do, I'd tell him, and pulling yourself out of your element is a great way to see what you're made of.

Apparently he listened. Because only a semester after my return, I received a phone call. The connection was fuzzy, the delay aggravating. But the message was quite clear: My former roommate was taking my advice. He was going to study abroad...at my university. "I'm coming to see you," he said, his voice dripping with excitement and expectation.

You know that awkward feeling you get, the stomach-clenching wave that tells you this isn't going to end well? Yeah, that's about how I felt at that moment...