By John Hubbuch
My wife Marsha and I have celebrated 45 Valentine's Days. Overall I would give me a D+ for my Valentine's Day performance. Lots of C's and D's. A few B's. One F -- don't have a drink with your office workers on Valentine's Day. I can never really get into the whole romance thing where you act so differently on one day. It seems stupid almost cartoonish.
But I know I'm in the minority and Marsha wishes I was a bit more romantic. But I've decided that it's not my fault. It's my genes. I'm sure that geneticists will soon isolate the romance gene, and that mine is defficient. Like peanut and latex allegeries or attention disorders some of us have conditions that we just can't help. Mine is a lack of romance.
I'm pretty sure my Dad had Romance Disorder Syndrome (RDS) and he passed it on to me. Why else would he give my mom the same heart-shaped box of Russell Stover candy every Valentine's Day forever. He was obviously hiding his RDS. Today I feel safe and comfortable to talk about my condition. Why I would even be willing to go on Dr.Phil or Oprah to help others acknowledge their condition.
RDS is of course toughest on the spouses whose loved one suffers from this affliction. I can only hope that someday there will be a cure for this terrible condition, and Marsha can get breakfast in bed or the surprise delivery of a bunch of balloons.
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