I consider myself romantically challenged. At least given how romance is traditionally defined and perceived. Bringing my wife flowers and gifts, remembering to get her something for her birthday, remembering our anniversary, all of these things are learned behavior for me. They don’t come naturally.
I’ve always been a non-conformist. For me there was never any inherent value or sense in doing things the way everybody else did them. Though it was not until I was in my 30s that I consciously identified with the term “artist,” I guess by virtue of my non-conformism I fit the artist stereotype pretty early on.
Maybe I’m romantically challenged because my Dad died when I was nine. I never saw romantic behavior modeled by him. Maybe he wasn’t much interested in romance. I don’t really know. Like me though, he was a non-conformist. He was also a bit of an adulterer. Since he had regular affairs I don’t think he regularly wined and dined my mother.
But I certainly can’t blame my anti-romanticism on him. In 6th grade when I told a group of girls I liked Lindsay they said “OK, you’re going with her.” They told me to meet her at the skating rink Saturday morning. When I asked my friend Jay what exactly was expected of me he said, “Just buy her stuff.” Given that I was scared shitless and didn’t have a clue what romancing a girl looked like I thought this was sound advice.
I didn’t have much to say that morning. We were holding hands, skating. Around and around we went and I had no clue what to say. I had a reputation as a wise guy, always making jokes, and I was terrified. “Are you hungry? Do you want to eat something?” That was about all I could manage to say. The big money I saved up – I think I had $5 – was burning a hole in my pocket. Finally, she said, “Look, I’ll let you know when I get hungry, OK!” Back in class Monday morning I was told by the girls that I was no longer going with Lindsay.
I didn’t fare much better with Kay. Later that year, when a different group of girls told me I was going with her, I immediately sought out the advice of a different friend, Max. At least I had the sense not to go back to Jay. “Buy her a ring,” he said. Buying rings was all the rage at that time. Even at 11 years of age that struck me as a really stupid idea. I balked. Then at the year-end class party I added insult to injury. I danced with another girl. On her way out the door Kay stopped in front of me and with genuine hurt and outrage she said “You two-timer!” The obligatory Monday morning visit to my desk by her girlfriends was deemed unnecessary.
When I was 16 I told my family I would no longer buy them Christmas gifts. I’m sure this wasn’t happy news. But they took it pretty well. Maybe it was because we are Jewish.
But my parents were also atheists. They chose to celebrate Christmas with us when we were kids so we’d “fit in.” After my Dad died we alternated between Christmas and Hanukah for a few years. Then we got lazy and defaulted again mostly to Christmas. Unfortunately for my family I told them ixnay on the presents for both Christmas and Hanukah. I wasn’t interested in either.
I told them I loved them and I refused to let purchased trinkets stand as symbols for that love. I couldn’t see going out and buying a bunch of stuff for them just because the culture told me now was the time. I explained how I thought consumerism was a waste of time and good money – a product of deeply misplaced values. I believe they took it so well because, though not as much as me, they’re anti-consumerist too. Plus they were used to me being non-conformist.
What might have taken some of the sting out of it for them was my promise to buy them things when my heart spontaneously called me to. Though at 16 I was far from the world traveler I was later to become, I think they accepted the implicit promise that I would bring them interesting things from interesting places. Their patience was rewarded whenever I returned from my travels. I like to think the gifts I brought back from China made up for the entire previous drought.
It’s safe to say my family and friends know me and have given up trying to reform me. On a trip to one of my oldest and best friends another of my oldest and best friends recounted a conversation he had with his wife before leaving: “What should I bring for our hosts since Frederick will no doubt bring nothing.” By telling me this he might have meant it as something of an insult, as a sideways dig for all the years I visited him and his wife and never brought them gifts. But I didn’t take it that way. I simply laughed with him and took it as a simple recounting of the facts. I can be incredibly clueless at times. Especially when it comes to social norms and romance.
Even saying I love you is learned behavior for me. Growing up in my family none of us said it to each other. I don’t recall either parent saying it to us kids. Maybe it was the unconscious awareness of my father’s very sudden demise – due to a heart attack, here one day, gone forever the next – that spurred us to shift. Almost every single time I say goodbye to someone I think it may well be the last time I ever see him or her. So you can be sure that whomever it’s appropriate with I now say I love you.
Of course, being non-conformist, I can say I love you in pretty unorthodox ways. On Valentine’s Day in high school I called the college radio station to request Harry Nilson’s Coconut song for my girlfriend. Not the most romantic song certainly. But full of good humor and joie de vivre. She loved it. But of course she was pretty unorthodox too.
Lest you think I’m always proud of this behavior let me affirm that I know it can and does hurt people’s feelings. A few years ago my brother published an important article on research he’d done. He shared it with me. I read some and skimmed the rest. Though I appreciated how useful it was for his field, for me personally I didn’t find it all that interesting. More importantly, I didn’t even think to call him and congratulate him on his success.
Some months later, on my brother’s behalf, some men in his support circle confronted me on that. I still remember the look of stupefaction on their faces when I told them quite honestly that it never occurred to me. To simply reach out and offer a blessing and acknowledgement. To say “Good job. And bless you for all you do to make this world a better place.” I had no idea.
At that meeting I made a commitment to check in with him once a month to stay updated and in touch. That was at the heart of what he most wanted. Acknowledgements and blessings are great, but he longed for regular interaction. The truth is I’m very good at keeping commitments. And I’m very bad at recognizing and acting on what are considered normal social conventions.
It’s also due to the commonness of false sentiment. I hate how sentiment is exploited by marketers and sold back to us as authenticity. Genuineness seems to be a rare commodity these days. So when cultural habit and social norms dictate I absolutely must do something I’m absolutely inclined not to. I fear that having to do something will make me less than authentic. I figure if my own heartfelt feelings, goodwill and playfulness are not good enough for my friends and family then that’s their problem. Yes, at parties and other occasions “my presence is [often] my gift.”
It can prove embarrassing at times. When two of my best college friends got married I remember placing a hand-typed collection of my poems on their wedding gift table – there among the Cuisinarts and fondue makers. Did it look ridiculously out of place? No question. Did I feel like I was somehow cheating because I hadn’t bought them anything? Yes. But I also felt a twinge of pride that I was giving them something that came from my heart. It wasn’t going to make it easier for them to make smoothies but I hoped it might touch their own hearts in some way.
Years later I still hadn’t learned my lesson. When another friend got married I got him and his wife the best book I’d ever read on how to nurture and grow a relationship. Did it look stupid on their wedding gift table? I think so. But then again I probably didn’t wrap it either.
That anti-consumerist impulse, that non-conformist reflex, that suspicion of culturally dictated ritual, that unconsciousness around social norms followed me through most of my adult life. Not surprisingly, I chose partners who themselves were non-conformists, not invested in celebrating most traditional holidays. Or if so, then not celebrating them in traditional ways. That said, I always liked honoring friends and lovers on their birthdays. That absolutely made sense to me. So I stumbled through most of my life never much bothered by my non-conformist ways. (This article is proof. Here I am submitting it 6 weeks after Valentine’s Day!) That was true until I met my wife.
It didn’t take me long to realize how much it hurt her feelings if I didn’t remember our anniversary, if I didn’t bring her cards and gifts now and then, if I didn’t offer her the option of celebrating Christmas. In many ways she’s been the most traditional mate I’ve ever had. Though Christmas is still not at all important to me per se, it’s important to me because it’s important to her.
One of the great lessons learned in my married life is that it takes relatively little effort attending to these details to keep my wife happy. And making her happy is one of my highest priorities and greatest joys. So why wouldn’t I want to do some simple things, remember some simple dates, take action on simple occasions, to remind her how much I love her? And if that’s not truly romantic then what is?
To learn more about Frederick Marx as an artist and documentary filmmaker, check out Warrior Films top 10 documentaries.