Romantic.

Romantic.

What a peculiar word.

What does it mean?

romantic: conductive to or characterized by the expression of love.

"You aren't very romantic, are you?" They ask, and though I open my mouth to argue, I ponder the thought. By a human's standards I am not romantic. If someone wished to call me a pet name, chances are they will be slapped. Chocolate in heart boxes and rose petals on floors don't make my heart flutter. Valentine's day is a holiday I will never celebrate, and though holding hands is nice, I'd rather not—I really do need to use that hand for important stuff (like eating)!

Does this mean I really am not romantic? Am I doomed to a life of loving without expression? Perhaps I will be an old maid.

"No I am not romantic." I answer.

And then I think.

The love stories that make me smile, the Jane Austen novel that I've read cover to cover, the hours I've dedicated to watching chick flicks and grinning over rainy scenes and meeting in coffee shops.

I am romantic.

Romance, for me however, isn't a large gesture or even a small one. Romance is eating pancakes for dinner because we both agree that dinner for dinner is overrated. Romance is one staying awake through the night because the other isn't feeling well — even though they have work in the morning. Romance is watching the Star Wars movie and quoting word for word together. Romance is one ordering pizza because they know the other doesn't want to do dishes (and because pizza is delicious). Romance is being each others' best friend and staying by their side to the very end. Romance is being comfortable in the others' presence. Romance is a life of love that never ends. Romance is beautiful.

I love romance. I am romantic. 

Just don't call me "baby".