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Good Morning, Romance

No matter what my wife says these days (should anyone ever meet her), I am a romantic all the way to my core. Only children, like myself, are, without hesitation, branded as selfish, which I suppose is true when judged by someone who grew up with 2 to 45 siblings. But the thing that often goes unnoticed by those who would judge us is that we are VERY passionate (almost to a fault). When you don't have siblings and don't have cousins filling in for siblings (I have an immeasurable amount of cousins, but I didn't grow up with them) you have time on your hands to dream, create and dream some more. Entwined in all this is romance. 

For a very long time, I dreamed of living a romantic life, drinking in my friendships, my experiences and the women I encountered along the way. And although these dreams still linger, over the course of growing older you realize that these constructs of your imagination are just that --- your imagination. So living a romantic life is attainable only up to a point. For example, there is absolutely nothing romantic about the subway, no matter what it looks like in movies or sounds like in stories, including my romantic short featuring the F Train.  

But when it comes to people, romance is something you can bring to the table, something you can shower someone with. It can be received, reciprocated or rejected. As a romantic (at heart) I can say unequivocally that one of the sweetest things is waking up in bed next to the one you love (or the one you were loving for the night), watching them come to, smile and say, "Hi" or "Good Morning." Music to my ears. Always has been, always will be. This can lead to more lovemaking, a great breakfast or at least a nice talk about the night before. The first time I heard, Good Morning by John Legend I immediately thought of the times I've either heard or said, "Good Morning," in the way he suggests in his song. And just so I don't get beat silly by my loving wife, let me say here that I am only referencing my experiences with her and how she used to smile when I said this to her. By now, you should have an idea where this is going. 

This past Saturday morning, we came in at three in the morning from the night before after hanging out at a lounge with some of her friends from college. Everyone there was grown and sexy and had miraculously straight teeth, no lie. I say all this to say, I went to bed feeling grown and sexy too even though my face looked pudgy in all the pictures they took that night. When I woke up at about ten-thirty in the morning, I looked at my wife, beautiful Bajan, black woman that she is, and watched her sleep for a little while before surfing the net on my iPod. Finally, I rolled over and gave her a peck on the lips. "You have to go out and get Pedialyte for the baby," she said. "Huh?" "The baby has diarrhea and you need to go get some Pedialyte before she wakes up. She took a poop four times last night." I knew my baby had the runs and I knew how many times she had gone to the bathroom. I was with my wife when we first noticed her stomach was hurting the night before and I was with her when our baby sitter confirmed it that same night. "Are you serious?" I asked. "Yes, I'm serious!" she snapped, fully awake and mad that she was awake. "What kind of question is that? What did I do? Did I offend you? Did I call you out of your name?" she barked more than asked. 

I sighed, then laughed. She didn't understand where I was coming from. I asked if she was serious because her eyes had been closed the entire time before she greeted me with Pedialyte and poop. The woman was asleep, but somehow managed enough consciousness to tell me to go to the store. My house is now stocked with all varieties of Pedialyte (which ain't cheap). In my wife's defense, our daughter was seriously suffering from a stomach virus and sleeplessness which put her on edge. But being told/asked/whatever what to do by your unconscious lover the second you wake up is about as unromantic as it gets. Therefore I have concluded that being a parent is definitely a charmed experience. It is definitely priceless and truly admirable. And it is a privilege. You can be cool at it and you can do your best to maintain your sexy doing it, should you so choose. But there is absolutely nothing romantic about parenthood. If there is, someone please tell me.

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