Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Crimes to the Third Degree.
â€œWhatâ€™s the most romantic thing a man can give a woman?â€ one of the married men in my office asks, contemplating a major upcoming anniversary in his homelife. â€œFlowers? Candy? Dinner out?â€
For some reason, my mind flashes back to a boy in college when I was about 17. He would look at me for hours and talk about how he wanted to draw me while I wrote my poetry and novels. He wanted to capture the spark in my eye as I created. He never did draw me.
He also spoke of wanting to write a song for me on his guitarâ€”he was a musician and Iâ€™ve always appreciated musicians, and he had played back-up for a number of well-known recording artists in the late 70â€™s and had lots of stories to tell about the â€œstarsâ€ and their bad habits. He never did write that song for me, though he listened to me suffer through a few guitar chords for my own lyrics and melodies.
Those were promises unfulfilled on his part, but I found them incredibly romantic and still find the prospect of a man drawing a woman or writing a song for her or a poem for her to be among the most endearing expressions of love and delight a man could possibly dream up. It really doesnâ€™t matter if the portrait or the song or the poem is without much skillâ€”in this case, the thought really is what counts.
I guess to me, thatâ€™s the most romantic thing a man can give a woman: his art, from his heart to hers.