Relationship Anarchy

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are: deviant, haunted, desolate, transparent, wretched. 

They were submitted by:  http://www.angrivatedmom.wordpress.com

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Matters of the heart require a person to be completely transparent. I don’t mean that you have to tell someone you don’t like the way their eyeshadow looks that day (because maybe its not about your preferences), but you do have to be perfectly clear about what you want and how you feel.

I am, always. Transparent.

But, that doesn’t make things any easier for me.

You see, I’m sort of aromantic. That doesn’t mean that I can’t fall in love with someone. It doesn’t mean that I’m some sort of wretched creature haunted by the past who has had her heart stomped on one too many times or a desolate, lonely cat lady who can’t find love. I’m not some deviant who only cares about herself and has no regard for others. But, I can’t be in the confines of a traditionally defined relationship without feeling like I’m suffocated. I get depressed, anxious, lose all sense of self in relationships that come with all these expectations of how people are supposed to act and feel, what they do and don’t do, how they relate to one another.

The first reaction I get, typically, is a statement that I haven’t met the “right” man yet which doesn’t even make any sense to begin with since I don’t *only* like men. Regardless, the idea that everything I know about myself can be resolved or changed because of a man is a bit absurd. And then there are the people who assume I have a broken heart that just needs to find love to mend itself or that I need to get laid. There’s always a few people who believe I don’t really know what I want and need to figure myself out, or that I need someone to sweep me off my feet or that I have only had shitty relationships. I’ll come around. I’ll want to get remarried one day. I’ll stop wanting to have my cake and eat it, too. No matter how transparent I am about my thoughts and beliefs, rarely can anyone accept that they might just be the truth. Instead, how I feel and what I believe is treated more like a challenge to prove me wrong.

Not being heard is quite an annoyance to say the least.

The thing, for me, is that I don’t really need the labels. I don’t necessarily have problems being monogamous, but I don’t want someone thinking I’m not allowed to be my flirty self, that I can’t call on others for the conversations I crave, that I shouldn’t spend so much time on the people I write or my hobbies or writing period. And, in my own experience, even when the idea of a relationship is (even falsely!!) a remote possibility, I am expected to make changes that really aren’t me. I am perfectly willing to make comprises and sacrifices for someone I love, but I am not, absolutely not, going to lose myself in someone else’s insecurities while they attempt to control aspects of my life, theirs, and ours together that are truly beyond both of our control.

To me, any social relationship, even one without clearly defined labels, is existential in nature. It’s going to end. One way or another, the relationship will either run its natural course or at least one member of the relationship will die. It’s a fact of life. There is no escaping the fact that forever is sort of an arbitrary term that doesn’t mean what it implies. To me, and in my experience, promising someone forever is taken to literally mean forever, and both parties end up trying to control every little thing they can to ensure the other person’s promise is upheld. Controlling another person’s behavior, though, is really sort of impossible without a pretty severe level of emotional abuse. See, I can make a commitment, a promise, and focus on my own behavior, what I do, how I behave, and how I treat the other person, but I can’t *make* them treat me the same way, behave the way I do, or not sleep with anyone else. I can’t make them love me and only me for the rest of life. As human beings, it seems like controlling things is what we want to be able to do….but it’s just not the way things work.

My existential responsibility, then, is to enjoy what is in front of me while I have it because I really have no control over how long that person is in my life. All I can do on my end is love them, treat them fairly and with affection and the way I want to be treated. I can choose monogamy and hope that person does, too, but there’s no way I can put a metaphorical chastity belt on them with a label or a piece of paper. I can tell that person what I want and what I expect, but I can’t enforce that in any way, so why should I spend the time we do have together worrying about it? I’d rather just *be* with that person for as long as we decide it’s good. And when it no longer is, we can agree mutually to go our separate ways. Does that take a label or a marriage certificate? Maybe it does for other people, but it’s not what I want. I just want to appreciate what I have for as long as I have it with someone and live life instead of spending all my time worried about what the future with that person holds.

I concede that may be odd in the world today, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what I want and how to get it or that I need someone to come along and show me everything I knew about myself was wrong. In fact, I don’t *need* anything except coffee in the morning, hugs from the kid, and Halloween candy.

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Thanks for reading! Here are the links to the rest of the participating blogs: 

http://bakinginatornado.com Baking In A Tornado

http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/ Spatulas on Parade

http://themomisodes.com The Momisodes

http://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/ Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

http://www.southernbellecharm.com Southern Belle Charm

http://www.renasworld.com/ Rena’s World

http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch Confessions of a part time working mom

http://batteredhope.blogspot.com Never Ever Give Up Hope

http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com Someone Else’s Genius

http://singlemumplusone.blogspot.com Searching for Sanity

http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com Climaxed

http://dinoheromommy.com/ Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/ The Bergham Chronicles

http://www.angrivatedmom.wordpress.com The Angrivated Mom

http://eileensperpetuallybusy.blogspot.com/ Eileen's Perpetually Busy

19 Tips for Modern Dating

1. Don’t expect a free meal unless you’re willing to pick up the tab the next time.

2. Do have enough money to cover your portion of the meal or activities as well as part of the tip instead of assuming your date will pay unless this is discussed beforehand.

3. Open doors *for each other*

4. Don’t ask a person you meet online or in a bar to feel comfortable enough after a conversation or two to meet you at their house or for directions to theirs. Respect their common sense approach to remaining safe. It isn’t a reflection on whether or not you are a good person. You never know if your date is planning on making a pencil skirt out of your skin until it's to late

5. Do offer to meet the person in public and do not expect that person to get drunk with you in public or not. Do not get so drunk that you spell “I love you” in pee on the sidewalk in front of your date.

6. If your date spells his or her name a certain way, do spell it that way also. You don’t really have a better idea of who your date is than he or she does, I promise.

7. Don’t question your date’s food choices especially if *you* feel he or she is ordering too much, and don’t eat off your date’s plate without asking first. Some people are assholes about that.

8. Don’t spend the entire date talking about yourself and your hobbies especially if your hobby is collecting pogs.

9. Don’t tell your date she owns too many cats and would be happier without cats. Also, don’t tell her you hate cats. If you hate cats, go fuck yourself.

10. Ask questions, engage in friendly banter, keep the topics as light or deep as the person you are with feels comfortable. Also, even if your date is into politics, please keep your libertarianism to yourself.

11. Don’t offer to eat your date’s underwear.

12. Do compliment the person, but don’t say things like “ I want to eat your pubic hair.”

13. Don’t call your date a tease if you don’t get what you want at the end of the night. Respect his or her right to say no and to wait until a more comfortable time to engage in whatever activities you want like when that person wants to do those things too. Sex shouldn’t be one-sided unless you’re at home alone and your pets aren’t watching.

14. Don’t push or try to force the person into what you want.

15. Do follow his or her cues for a goodnight kiss. It is more than okay to hope the kiss includes tongue.

16. Don’t call your genitalia a ding-dong or tell your date you have a badass “Weiner”

17. Do be upfront about what your needs are in life—if you don’t want a relationship, don’t lie and say you’re open to it. If you wanted the nachos as an appetizer, get the fucking nachos.

18. Don’t disrespect your date’s needs—if he or she expresses no desire for a relationship, don’t decide to wait it out and be a good friend until his or her mind is “changed.” That’s not how it works. Friends don’t fantasize about banging their friends all the time. That is something else entirely.

19. And, I suppose, it goes without saying, don’t be a self-serving dick.

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Sunday means Sunday Confessions! This week our prompt was "For" so this is where we ended up over here at Climaxed. Not eating underwear or wearing skin suits. So yeah. Anyway, be sure to check out the rest of the submissions at More Than Cheese and Beer

Dirty Little Secret

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are: Instead, Weight, Caught, Perspective and were submitted by the oh so awesome Jenn at http://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/

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Instead of taking a right turn towards home when she left the bleached and in-need-of-a-paint job parking lot in her office building, she went straight then took a sharp left. A right would have taken her to her life. This way would let her escape domestication for a little while.

At work in that rundown office building adjoined by that disaster of a parking lot, she was a telemarketer selling products to people who couldn’t afford them from a cubicle that looked like millions of other cubicles staggered across the country like cardboard cutout prison cells. Every single day she was roused from dreaming by the shrill scream of the alarm clock. Every day she hit the snooze button until she was almost late to work. Every day she skipped dressing up, she skipped makeup, she skipped doing anything to her hair but pulling it back in a half assed pony tail. She didn’t know when she stopped caring, but she had. She used to wake up ready for the world to light her on fire. Now, she was mostly a fizzling match waiting to be tossed by the wayside. She sat in her cubicle dialing numbers, hating people, hating herself in a whirlwind of monotony that killed her little by little every day. Then she would leave her boring, shitty job, travel the 14.58 miles to her house by the same route (every single day), and warm up the same rotation of Hungry Man meals for her far-too-round husband who couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge her existence.

Once upon a time they were happy. They wed, they loved, they dreamed of a bigger life together. Maybe it was never meant to be. Maybe life happened. Either way, the dreams had shriveled and the love went right along with it. She hadn’t felt wanted in longer than she cared to remember. If she didn’t feed the man and wash his clothes, she’s pretty sure her existence in her life wouldn’t have mattered at all. Over the years, she lost any sense of self she had ever had.

Until she met him.

That day at work had started like hundreds before it. She sat at her desk wishing she were anywhere else, wishing she were someone else, wishing she could stick to a diet, that she could be bothered to do something with herself just to feel some semblance of confidence and hating herself for not bothering. She pulled numbers from her computer files contacting people who either hung up on her immediately or who called her any number of words that made her blush and want to waste away and die just for doing her job. This time she was selling some kind of shitty wireless mp3 headphones from china that probably cost a buck a piece and were being pushed for $49.99. Of course people were hanging up for that. Who needed a fucking mp3 player with everyone having ipods and iphones and other bullshit?

When she got Ken on the phone though, he was immediately different. She started in on her spiel speaking so fast hoping to catch the consumer’s attention before the phone was slammed down in her ear. He was laughing in her ear before her second sentence though. She was blushing and bracing herself for the worst when he said, “Slow down, Sugar. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

She apologized then, but he laughed that off, too, and asked for her name. She introduced herself and felt herself smile when he said he liked the sound of her voice. He asked her age. The two of them were only a few months apart actually with her being the oldest. She felt oddly euphoric when he said he wanted to know everything about her, but she told him that she couldn’t talk about that sort of thing on the phone for work, so he wanted to know when she got her lunchbreak and if he could call her then. It was odd, but she gave him her number unable to say no to the kindness she heard in his voice, unable, really, to say no to the butterflies she felt fluttering in her gut. What harm could it do? she thought. It was just her phone number. It’s not like she was meeting a stranger at his home only to end up on the 6 o’clock news when her body was found shoved into a couple suitcases, in pieces, and tossed in the dump.

Eventually, though, she did meet him at his house. It wasn’t until several phone calls, hundreds of texts and shared photos, and a couple of lunch dates later, though. He knew she was married. Unhappily married. He was divorced and after just a few dates said he was failing for her. It was passionate, a chaotic swirl of lust and caring and maybe love—things she hadn’t felt in a long time if ever--and it hooked her right from the start.

She hadn’t slept with him yet, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t thought about it time and time and time again. She wanted it. Needed it. The most that had happened even when she was at his apartment were short kisses that she quickly broke off out of guilt. That hadn’t stopped her from seeing him, though. It hadn’t stopped her from being at his house alone. She knew that no matter how little physical contact the two of them had, it was still an affair, but from her perspective, if things hadn’t been so shitty in her marriage in the first place none of this would have happened. It was just a matter of figuring out where to go from here…if she were honest with herself, though, she could have taken the steps to make this right by now. She had promised Ken that she would, that she was going to leave, that she was going to have *that* conversation at home, and she had had every opportunity to do so, but when it came time to do it, she paused. Every time. She was holding back.

The weight of her secret and the thought of getting caught were exciting in a way. This was the craziest thing she had ever done in her life besides that one time she went into a sex shop and bought a vibrator to keep herself sane. She was scared that taking away the secretiveness, the thrill of it, would take away the very thing that made her feel alive. She was like a junkie begging for another hit so she could feel something more than numb, so she could escape from the consequences of her reality. Then she would trudge home to her apartment that smelled of regret and microwaved Salisbury steak (hard to distinguish between the two) and smile a knowing smile even as she threw Hank’s yellowed briefs into the wash. She would hum to herself when she stood under the hot spray of the shower letting Caress Tahitian Renewal wash away her sins. When she laughed to herself at some inside joke she shared with Ken even while Hank was in the room, she felt free.

In deception she had found salvation. It wasn’t Ken that saved her though he was certainly the catalyst. She had saved herself, proven that she could still take chances and make her own decisions and break the psychological chains that had held her in such an unhappy place for so long.

A phone call may have started it, but in the end, she was the one who determined life was meant for more.

Maybe it wasn’t right. Maybe a lot of people would judge her, but it had been a long time since she felt this good and she planned to hold on to that feeling just a little longer before she decided where to go from here. The only direction she would be going soon enough was up.

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I don't necessarily agree or disagree with the character in this story, but I go where the voice takes me and this was the road she and I traveled together this past week writing this story. Now, I hope you will check out the other bloggers who joined up for today's challenge. You can find the links below. And thank you for reading. 

http://www.BakingInATornado.com Baking In A Tornado

http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/ Spatulas on Parade

http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com The Bergham’s Life Chronicles

http://themomisodes.com The Momisodes

http://stacysewsandschools.blogspot.com/ Stacy Sews and Schools

http://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/ Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

http://eileensperpetuallybusy.blogspot.com Eileen’s Perpetually Busy

http://batteredhope.blogspot.com Battered Hope

http://www.southernbellecharm.com Southern Belle Charm

http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com Someone Else’s Genius

http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch Confessions of a part-time working mom

http://singlemumplusone.blogspot.com Searching for Sanity

http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com Climaxed

http://dinoheromommy.com/ Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

For All You Hopeless Romantics

I have read, so often lately, blogs and articles discussing the idea that romance is dead. As someone who has had a dating profile for the last several years of my life, I have to say that this idea is preposterous. I mean, just check out the message I received earlier this week:

This person has obviously made himself vulnerable to write and tell me exactly how big his dick is. Isn't that so sweet? I mean, how could romance not have anything to do with squirming? Squirming on the first date sounds absolutely hopelessly, awe-inspiringly romantic. These people who write these articles must be crazy. Or maybe they're not on okcupid, the hub of online romance. 

Here's another example from this time last year. Just in time for Valentine's Day!!!! Look at direct he is with his romantic gestures of SMASHING ME IN TWO. oh. my. fucking. god. It really doesn't get more romantic than this. 

I have never been so swept off my feet as when a man sends me a completely ambiguous message about someone entertaining someone else orally. 

Patrick has tried in no less than a dozen messages to get together every time he is in Bainbridge. My answer never changes. He's obviously one of those "nice guys" and I'm just not into the nice ones. I mean, who takes the time to plan weeks ahead to fuck someone you know nothing about??? 

See how well these guys think out their messages? This is beautiful in its simplicity, right?

Nothing says romantic like a married man gambling on my pussy then attempting to use reverse psychology to see if I'll take the bait and fuck him. I think I'm in love.

They say that boobs are the windows to the soul....

I've never felt so good about myself as when a man tells me that most parts of me aren't all that bad. 

I didn't answer this one either. He sounds like another one of those nice guys who really just love women so much. 

You're sorry that I'm plain hot? What does plain hot really mean? Hot because I'm so plain? I don't know. If you're apologizing for your bad grammar and syntax, the apology is totally accepted. 

Wait, I'm confused. Keep them off permanently or for a long time?

I'm not sure why he didn't respond. I thought my romantic side was on par with his....

As you can see, there is not a shortage of romantic nice guys on dating sites. I don't know what all these people keep complaining about. Romance is dead? I scoff at that. Look at all these men putting themselves out there by offering to make me squirm on their exaggerated dicks while they stare at my hot boobs. 

oh wait. 

This would actually be assholes who have nothing better to do than get STDs from dating sites and spread them around to any women with low enough self-esteem to fall for this kind of shit. Oops. My bad. 

Honestly, though, I don't think romance is dead entirely. As long as the Internet has existed, there have been shallow pricks who would do anything to get laid including exaggerating about their sexual prowess on a dating site message. Before that, guys did it in bars (and still do). Technology has changed the way people can be sick perverts and made it a bit easier to be a sick pervert, but that has not killed the romantic. They're still out there writing each other love notes, making mix tapes, penning songs, and ensuring the people they're interested in feel like the most special being that has ever crossed their paths. It's just the way those people are. It's what moves them, stirs them. To say that romance is dead just because a few more assholes are more blatant about their lack of respect for the opposite sex, to say that a text or an email can't be romantic because technology has changed the way we communicate is just asinine and pessimistic. When you look for only the bad, just as I did with the messages I shared above, it can be found in droves. That's the key to life though...the good is there if you look just as hard to find it. 

10 Things We Don't Wish Guys Would Do More Often

Despite the name of this blog post, I have problems when people write an article/essay proclaiming to understand what every woman or man wants out of the group to whom they're attracted. I cannot claim to know what every woman wants out of men, and I think it's pretty silly to make that assumption. I read such an article today on Elite Daily entitled The Ten Hopelessly Romantic We Wish Guys Did More Often. The basic premise is that in these days of modernized, technology-fueled relationships where texting is more common than actually dating, romance can and should be part of the dating process. I agree. Romantic gestures can make quite an impact. When I read the list, however, I was quite literally aghast at the suggestions included. The article would have been so much better had it been written solely from the author's perspective instead of taking on the voice of an entire gender.

It also would have helped had the author actually had any real idea on what constitutes romance versus hygiene.

So, here's the list. My responses have been included and are highlighted in gray.

1. Hug us from behind

That initial surprise the moment we feel your arms touch that spot on our waist where our curves meet is always welcomed. It’s cheesy and we know it, but sometimes it’s nice to be enveloped in a man’s embrace. Wrapping us up against you is the body language equivalent of saying “I’ve got you” and it feels really, really good to hear.

Wait, what? It's not cheesy as much as it is fucking creepy. "I've got you" is the equivalent of kidnapping talk. It's the kind of things I imagine a stalker would say as he clasps a gloved hand over my mouth and puts a gun to my head. No, thank you. 

This is the kind of guy who would hug you from behind. 

2. Call before bed

Even if it’s just to make sure we’re not passing out in the hallway, a bedtime phone call is affectionate and thoughtful. You want us going to bed dreaming about you and not Lip from “Shameless”? You’ve got our numbers. #CallMe

For one, there are some people (me) who absolutely despise phone calls. I've worked in a retail pharmacy long enough that I would be perfectly fine if I never had to make another phone call for the rest of my life. For two, if I'm passing out in a hallway, the last thing I want to do or need to do is talk to some dude on the phone. For three, #don'tfuckingcallme

3. Give us your worn-in sweatshirts

Or if you can’t part with those, vintage t-shirts will do just fine as well. When you’re not around to cuddle, we like snuggling with your clothes instead. And we’re not going to pretend like we don’t feel cute wearing your oversized garments. Bonus points if they still smell like you.

I have my own clothes. I really don't want to go to bed in someone else's old pit-stained throwaway shirts. I mean, really... If it smells like you, it probably smells like your funk. I'll pass. 

4. Have sex during the game

That’s why they invented halftime right? After watching the Giants take 20 minutes to get a first down, we’d appreciate at least some heavy petting – which we’d like to note doesn’t require any attention except from your hands. So you can do it while Russell Wilson completes his pass. Think of it as a play for play.

I don't really date anyone so obsessed with sports that this would actually be an issue, but I mean, can't people do their own thing? I would be using game time to work on my own projects and get a little me-time in. Also, I don't feel the need to compete with a game or a sport. I'd prefer any sex I have not to be distractedly squeezed into a break between game periods while someone sings the national anthem in the background. Besides, if you end up staring at the tv over my shoulder, you're going to regret it. 

5. Pick us up

A spin really completes the move, just saying. Do you remember the last time someone lifted you up? I mean this literally. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does it’s a dramatic moment that reminds us of your strength and your ability to sweep us off our feet, quite exactly. There’s nothing wrong with wanting the prince charming – he still comes with a sword.

Pick me up and I will fucking punch you. End of story. 

6. Keep your creepy porn fetishes a secret

We’re not saying we don’t condone indulging in whatever turns you on, but if you are getting off to anything we wouldn’t remotely try (like, I don’t know, say humping Ferris wheels or something) then it’s best to keep that information to yourself. We’re not judging, but telling us you liked watching “2 Girls 1 Cup” kind of stays with a person.

I mean, "don't tell us about your fetishes?" Really? Well, those fetishes may be a dealbreaker but not getting satisfied sexually eventually leads to infidelity doesn't it? I'd rather know now than really get hooked on someone only to find out he or she was humping Ferris Wheels with someone else because I wouldn't. That would sting. Badly. This is just sheer ignorance. Does this mean I, too, have to hide my fetishes? Or is this author operating under the assumption that only dudes have these sorts of odd fantasies? 

7. Wear suits… and then give us their jacket

Men in suits are the equivalent of women in oxford button downs. It’s just plain sexy. And when you give us your coat, it’s pretty much like foreplay.

Okay, I concede that suits are sexy. I cannot agree that having a guy's jacket is going to lubricate my vagina, however. It's not foreplay. It IS a bit romantic, but let's not get carried away here. 

8. Go for it – romantically or otherwise

We’re all for a woman making the move and feeling confident, but the high of being wanted by someone else is equally important. Don’t hold back anymore. If you’re feeling it in the moment, whether it’s confessing your attraction or pushing back a strand of our hair, just go for it. In such an impersonal world, we crave that flicker of human connection.

This is called being assertive. I don't think assertiveness qualifies as hopelessly romantic. Of course both sides of an attraction desire feeling wanted. It takes everyone involved, though. And, quite frankly, I haven't met a guy yet who really holds back on showing his attraction. I have the pics on my phone to prove it. 

9. Notice the small things

Maybe it’s the placement of your favorite freckle or the arch of your back when you’re lying together. When someone takes the time to appreciate your little features, it means something much bigger.

Let's be honest. This is only going to be romantic as long as the little thing being noticed is not something you're self-conscious about. As soon as that tiny little mole on your nose gets pointed out, you're going to go from "awww" to "pissed off" in 3 seconds flat. 

10. Wear a signature scent

The power of olfaction is a real thing. We’re all animals on some level and it’s in our nature to sniff you out. And even if it’s only for a night, we’ll always have your smell to remember you by.

Since when did being clean and smelling nice go from hygienic to romantic? If that's all it takes, I am romancing the fuck out of people all day long. 

Here is my own list. I only wanted to make my own to show that one person cannot speak for the attractions of an entire group of people. I invite you to think it over seriously and make one yourself in the comments. 

1. Make a mixtape. 

Nearly every memory I have is attached to a song or band. Attach a song to my thoughts of you. Every time I hear it, you'll be all I think about. 

2. Write an actual note. On paper. 

Handwritten letters are a forgotten art. Even if it's just a few sentences, it's a tangible compliment that can be kept and cherished. 

3. Brush my hair. 

Best thing ever. Enough said. 

4. Plan a picnic. 

That's right. Make me a goddamn sandwich. But, seriously, the effort will be appreciated even if said picnic takes place on the living room floor. 

5. Give me your arm to hold onto in public.

I think this speaks to itself. It's more dated than just holding my hand, but it feels secure and I love the way your arm feels in my hand. 

6. Read what I write. 

My actions say a lot about who I am. What I say will tell you more. But, my passion is writing, and unless you read what I write, there's no way you'll get to know me on the same level as someone who does all three. 

7. Remember what I take in my coffee. 

It's just a small gesture, but it shows you pay attention to those small things...that you care enough to do so. 

8. Read a book with me. 

The only thing about delving into a phenomenal story is sharing it with someone awesome. 

9. Tell me about your fetishes. 

Because two people need to be real with each other. I want to know these things even if I don't exactly jump on the bandwagon. I want to know the real you  not the facade people show in the early stages of dating. When the best-foot-forward version of you can no longer be maintained, I don't want to be left with a complete stranger. Being vulnerable by revealing these things IS romantic. Don't offer to jizz on my glasses on the first date, however There's a fine line between romance and being a douchecanoe. 

10. Slow dance with me in the middle of a store, in the kitchen, on a sidewalk...

wherever the mood strikes you.