My first husband bought me tea and chocolates as Christmas and special-occasion gifts.
My second husband bought dishes and kitchen appliances, and for my birthday one year he bought and installed a pair of windshield wipers on my car. For Mother's Day he bought and installed a muffler on my car. These were things I needed and appreciated.
Neither husband ever bought me flowers — not once!
Here is my problem.
Here I am, nearly 80 years old, and I have met a widower. Let me call him "Mr. Romantic."
He is sending me roses. What do I do with them? Do I just put them in a vase? Other than writing him a thank-you note, how do I reciprocate?
I feel like a 16-year-old girl again, but I don't want to ruin this relationship or embarrass him.
We are having the time of our lives making lemonade from the lemons life dealt us.
I'm a widowed great-great-grandmother, starting over!
Ugh. Please do not compare your 80-year-old self to your 16-year-old self. I am pretty sure "Mr. Romantic" will not finger you in a movie theater and steal beer from his Dad after.
First off, what is so romantic about chocolate and flowers? It's a cliche that has gone on for way too long only to be egged on by shitty romantic comedies, where the guy shows up at the airport just in time to profess his love. What's wrong with guys getting you something you need? Is a state of the art microwave and two orgasms not enough romance, Grandma? Romance isn't material things, it's saying and doing things because you genuinely care for the other person.
In the grand scheme of things, you should be so lucky to have met somebody so late in life. There are only so many VFW halls, so I'm not sure how you swung a romantic moron that buys you candy. And you say your problem is not knowing how to reciprocate?! Your problem is, you are fucking 80-years-old. If I was a betting man, I'd put you in my death pool every year I knew you, because let's face it...you're going to eat it hard, and soon.
You talk about romance, yet you don't know how to reciprocate? Maybe you were the one that isn't romantic. I hate to be such a "guy" but the best reciprocation is lady ass. With every north and south movement, we know we have made you as happy as you are making us feel right now. Now, I'm not sure if this guy wants to see your wrinkly, hefty-bag-of-laundry body on his twin bed at Hospice, but it's worth a try. Take out your dentures and go downtown (if you're hip and back will let you.) Other than that, just appreciate that somebody is keeping you company before you die relatively alone.