Romance. We’re addicted to it. We think we can never get enough of it, either in fiction or real life. But like a steady diet of anything, I wonder if we’d really like it if we ate it all the time. I do like to read other stuff—mostly mysteries, thrillers, the occasional “women’s fiction” (whatever that means), history. I don’t do self-help books. I’m either perfect or beyond saving, not sure which.

And the man in my life? We’ve been talking Tall, Dark and Handsome all week long, and he qualifies. He can be quite a romantic, too. Examples will follow. But I’d probably think he was a pod person if he behaved too well. Would we really like a guy to anticipate and take care of our every need, gush how great we are everywhere he went? Think Tom Cruise. Think couches. Poor Katie. Kate.

When I met my husband, he was a college student. I had already graduated and was working in New York City. He’s still older than I am, if you were wondering. For our first date, he sold blood to finance dinner and a movie. He then took a two-hour bus trip from New Jersey to the Port Authority, walked over forty blocks, bought me cheap champagne and flowers. When we walked to the restaurant, he asked me if I liked chicken. I said yes. “Take a wing,” he replied, extending his elbow. So hokey, but that first Friday night date lasted the whole weekend and we are extremely married.

When I turned 40, he sent 40 red roses. Okay, so every one of them died the next day. I thought it was an omen, but it wasn’t his fault.

He gets my car filled with gas Saturday mornings while I sit in my pajamas typing. If they didn’t yap about it on the news, I’d never know gas prices are outrageous. And then he grocery shops, which I hate.

There are lots of little things he does for me. Maybe not grand gestures like heroes do in books and movies. We’re not dancing in the dark like Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse (You thought I’d say Ginger Rogers, didn’t you? But I looked it up.) and he’s not swinging me around the factory floor like Richard Gere does to Debra Winger. But he does our taxes. Sometimes we even get a refund.

What’s your most memorable romantic moment? Something that happened to you, something in fiction or film? Let’s get a little mushy.

Check back July 1 for the next contest!