Romantic or just no money?

Is it possible to have a truly romantic evening without dinner in an expensive restaurant and a bouquet of roses? What is the meaning of the word "romance" in our time?

In general, maybe I wouldn't write about it here, but it's just that the whole LiveJournal is already littered with tearful stories about poor guys who can't offer girls anything but a tent and sunrises-sunsets. They, these refined (in what place?) girls, are all so drawn upwards to the foreign resort miracle-irreality, and to them - oops! - no five-star coastal hotels there. And the suggestion is to go to the lake. Ha. Ours, locally-domestic. Or climb the rocks. Or through the swamp. Well, how will the campaign turn out.

A couple of times I read such girlish posts, such as about romance. I don’t even remember the authors of them anymore, everything somehow got mixed up in my head. But the meaning was of the same type - for the author "romantic" - this is to be taken to a restaurant. I just want to say - oh, how cool! — where are the restaurants in her village? Well this is the dream of her whole life, hike. And to give flowers. This is also romantic. Ahh, the height of romance - so that he climbed into the window. At night. Yeah. I read this from one young lady, where she described her most romantic moment in her life - as some kind of ***** from great love for her popped through the window. I don’t remember what floor it was in history. Some kind of climber, for sure. And I suppose with a bouquet of flowers in his teeth, his hands were busy.

Karoch, top of the most romantic stories from livejournalists: — about ****** in the window;

- how some poor fellow ran through the city on a date on foot. I don't remember why. Either they dug a ditch across the road and the transport stopped. Or something else. But walking around the city is romantic. And when through the forest - fuuuuuu. Not at all. - another poor fellow who sold something he needed (probably the last panties) in order to again take the girl to a restaurant. And then she didn’t eat for probably three days, she lost weight already. But it turned out very romantic. A boy without panties, but with a half-starved aunt in a tavern, eats lobsters. By candlelight. Just to please her. Her subtle romantic soul.

In general, this LJ has broken my whole idea of ​​romance here. I then naively thought that romance is when the sun is in the palm of your hand. Or when the mountain wind in the face. But nope, now I know - this is when three roses are in cellophane. And feed her in the catering, by all means. And from mosquitoes in the forest, the girls swell instantly up to the 68th size. They can't go there, in the forest. There are these more... maniacs. Under the bushes They are waiting, girls. Although a maniac is not so critical. Compared to manicure. And then, after all, a manicure can break if the girl herself cooks a romantic dinner. And if at the stake... O_o. There is no hot water! And this one, the dishwasher.

I was struck down by one intelligent clean-girl once on the spot. She asked so perplexedly, where can I get water to wash the skewers after the barbecue. What's the point of the question? Yes, it was on the lake. On the very shore. And where do they get all the water to wash the smoky greasy grills and skewers, mlyayayaya! I didn't even understand her question at first, but then I stuck my finger at the lake. And she - “What are you! THERE'S BACTERIA!!!"

And how until now my skewers have not died from these bacteria, I myself am surprised. But he was disappointed in that fool. To be honest. Then I even thought - oh, it's good that at least quickly. And if I had gone to the same restaurants with her, I wouldn’t have crossed it right away. Here, there are benefits from rivers and lakes. You can see it faster there, huh from huh.

And what I still don’t fully understand is the craving of girls for flower-bouquets. Do they, girls, seriously believe that they prove love with bouquets? And again, it always seemed to me that her actions prove it. And not external ostentatious manifestations. And the price of all these flowers - so, garbage. Three rubles in the hayloft. If there are real cases behind them - zero. Or even with these flowers, at least at work, he meets her in the car in the evening, so that she doesn’t go home by bus in the cold, in the hustle and bustle. Maybe then these flowers are not so necessary. The flower-candy period will not last all your life, someday you will suddenly have to dig potatoes together in the garden.

As for romance for the poor… Hmm. I would call it differently. Not for the poor. But for those who are not callous in soul. And for those who love bright colors in life. And what about the colors in the restaurant? - so, only black-and-white prints in a frame on the wall...

Author: Max Shatov