I’m always hearing and reading complaints from women that their men aren’t romantic. I’m not sure what this means, exactly. For instance, I consider myself one of the most romantic men around – I once bought roses for my wife-to-be without anybody telling me I ought to.
Seriously, I do think I have a romantic nature. (See More Dance for supporting evidence.) The trouble is that it is almost always wasted by me ending up in very romantic situations either alone or with “just a friend.” (As in “More Dance”….) So that all this great romance doesn’t go to waste, however, I thought I’d share some of the exotic locations to which I’ve been in a series of blog entries. The places I mean to describe are guaranteed to kick-start the passion of any beer-guzzling, football-watching boyfriend, if only you can get him there. If one of my entries catches your fancy, print it out and tape it to the twelve-box in the refrigerator; he’s sure to catch on if you then explain it in short sentences using small words.
The first place I’m going to describe is near
I was at the Hotel Wildbach a number of years ago with Danielle “just as friends” (a different Danielle than the “More Dance” Danielle, FYI) and another couple, the male portion of which was my buddy Unca Don. Don was living in
We arrived in Grindelwald as it began to grow dark. I went off looking for my friend while the others in the party checked into the lodging situation. I never could find my friend, and when I reconnected with the rest of my posse they were, to say the least, disgruntled with Grindelwald. Everything was horribly overpriced and it was full of American skiers. If that was what we had wanted, we would have gone to
Driving at night in the
When we awoke the next morning, Danielle and I stepped out onto the balcony that runs in front of the chalet. We were astounded to see the sun just rising over the tops of the mountains, painting the western peaks in a vivid rose color before reaching us down in the valley. The lake which the hotel fronted was covered in roiling fog, giving it an eerie but beautiful contrast to the bright pink peaks. Hell, I’d forgotten we were on a lake; it was dark when we got there the previous evening. At any rate, the whole scene was breathtakingly romantic. In fact, even Danielle and I cast an appraising eye at each other, caught up in the passion of the moment. Then we (read she) said “Naw, we’re just friends. Let’s leave it at that.” I am a guy, after all, but I ended up reluctantly agreeing with her after an icy cold shower.
Later that morning we left