It’s all About the Romance

Marc Berry first discovered romance at the tender age of 19. It was an unseasonably warm November afternoon in Vancouver, British Columbia, and Marc, fresh from the mountains he had grown up in, was gazing out at the big city bustle flowing past the restaurant window. In the back of his mind he dimly noted a disturbance at the table, as some new people added themselves to the party. Reluctantly drawn from his reverie, Marc turned his attention back to the conversation. His eyes swept across the newcomers, taking them all in at a glance. His new friends were an eclectic group of unlikely compatriots, drawn together as much by their oddities as their similarities.

Just settling into the aisle seat was Toby, a bearded work-a-day man with a penchant for pulp adventure novels, who in spite of his chronic unemployment, always managed to look and smell fresh from the construction site. Opposite Toby sat Reg, a snaggle toothed ex-pat who’s greatest wish in the world was to be seen as an exciting man. He spent much of his time trying to convince anybody who would listen that he was actually a Secret Service agent who had fallen out of favour with the Agency, and was presently on the lam. Seated beside Marc was J.J., a blond department store model whose only significant claim to fame was that she had more body than brains.

Marc had recently asked J.J. to marry him, not for reasons of love so much as she just looked so damn good on his arm. At 19, Marc was of the opinion that the only way a beautiful woman could look any better was to stand at his side, and this was the sole reason for J.J.’s temporary inclusion in the group, for this group was a ragtag collection of average men whose sole bond was one of agreement. They each agreed to believe the other’s lies, in return for unquestioning acceptance of whatever tales they, in their turn, chose to tell.

The last addition to the party was a woman that Marc didn’t know. Seated directly across from him, she was petite, lively, and struck Marc as honest, which in and of itself was enough to pique Marc’s curiosity. Affecting nonchalance, he took in the red hair and olive complexion, and introduced himself.

It is a common misconception that a liar cannot look you in the eye, so Marc had always made a point of looking into a person’s eyes when he spoke to them. That habit proved to be his undoing, for her hazel eyes, so soft and full of life, captured him like no one else’s ever had. Caught between heartbeats, the rest of the world forgotten, he hung poised in the face of his destiny, all his lies laid bare and exposed, the tapestry of fabrications torn asunder like the flimsiest of silk nightgowns donned in an effort to transform the ugly into the desirable, or barring that, at least make the truth more palatable. And as is the way of lies and nightgowns, all the truths that Marc had made a habit of ignoring lay exposed, showing up all his inadequacies, his fears, and complete lack of suitability to hold a such woman as this.

That was the day that Marc discovered the difference between lies and liberty, love and lust, and love won the day, liberating Marc to become a man, rather than just a boy playing an eternal game of pretend. Over the course of the next two weeks, Marc shed every habit and association (including poor J.J.) that he felt might jeopardize his chances with Dawne, the woman who had awakened in him the desire to be more, and so much more than just a truant schoolboy playing at a pretend life devoid of merit.

The change wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t quick, but the change was made. Marc and Dawne were married on July 29, 1986, and two decades later Marc is just as obsessed with Dawne as he was on that first, fateful day. Incurable-Romantic.com is his ongoing love letter to the woman who made an honest man of him.

“A true man does not need to romance a different girl every night, a true man romances the same girl for the rest of her life” -Ana Alas-

Dawne’s Story

What I’m about to tell you may seem out of place for a blog about romance. But you see, my belief is that true romance is about life, love, the universe and just about everything we do and experience: You can romance a child by showing them the magic of the world. You can romance a friend by showing them, in the details, how much they’re valued by you. You can romance yourself by pampering yourself. To romance the one you love, you must do all this an more.

As a result, I need to set the stage for you to show how my relationship with Marc works and to explain the perspective from which I write here on Incurable Romantic.

Growing up, I felt incomplete. Don’t misunderstand me; I have always had an unusually strong personality, one that many found “difficult” to understand, so feeling incomplete wasn’t a “weakness”. It was just that I really did have another half out there.

I unsettled both of my parents being so “old”, so young. They often felt I was older/more mature than them. On top of this, I was bright and clever. My mother felt threatened by this and tried to dominate and control me from day two, which led to severe abuse over several years, including an attempted drowning when I was five and my first near death experience. This abuse left me with two chronic pain conditions and PTSD, which I still have.

As a result of this home life, I became an adult emotionally by age 11. To stay sane and survive, I learned how to self-examine and objectively observe everything around me. I also became extraordinarily good at “reading” people.

Both inside and outside the home, I would speak my mind and heart as I felt or believed I needed to, was very daring and had little fear of anything. I also understood guys better than I did girls and took to hanging out with them. I kept up with them and had a lot of fun. They told me I was the only girl who seemed to understand guys.

Both my girlfriends and my boy friends asked me for advice about nearly everything and I could answer them: Both genders felt I was wise way beyond my years. A little later, about 13 or so, adults started doing the same; I even helped my parents create their divorce settlement at age 14. For my grade 10 english paper on euthanasia (mercy killing), a university professor was called in to grade it, because there were no qualified teachers at the school I was attending. This was during the same year I helped with my parents’ settlement. During this time I also decided that I wanted to know the meaning of life; the real one and I knew it was out there, available to anybody who wanted it and paid attention.

As time went on, the feeling of a missing half remained persistent. I told my best friend exactly what The One would look like and be like. On the one hand, she believed me because of the way I was, but on the other, because of my home life, she thought it might be some kind of wishful thinking. However, I KNEW that I had another half and that we were going to meet relatively soon, though not soon enough as far as I was concerned. I think this impatience and a certain amount of desperation on my part is what fuelled her doubts.

I did eventually meet him when I was 20, and at probably the most painful time in my life: I was one year into being forced into giving up my first child of 2 1/2 years. Meeting Marc happened after expressing to the universe that if HE was really out there, now was the time. Through this I learned an important lesson that everyone should know as they go through life: Needing Marc taught me that the universe requires a good solid shove when change is required and that there can be no doubting when something is destined. It was also here I went through the first part of experiencing the answer to the meaning of life.

When Marc and I met, there was an instant recognition for me: I knew him and I mean everything, about him. I knew his weaknesses, strengths, character, how he would be in a relationship with me, all in the first few seconds of seeing him. Over the course of our first meeting, he proved me right at every turn. I knew it would also take time to find out some things about him, but it was the “knowing” of him, my “recognition” of him that told me, “Here before you is The One!”. Marc was seeing someone at the time, but quickly broke up with her to be with me: He had felt and experienced all the things I had.

When we got together, he cried on my behalf because I could no longer do so. I was very grateful that I met him when I did, because he saw the real me before the holocaust on my soul took place at the loss of my child. This gave him the means to hold on when I became someone I wasn’t; the loss of my child made me sort of dead and Marc continued to love the badly wounded and damaged soul I was. He did everything he could to bring me back, but nothing worked. We had so many tough times because of this, but neither of us would give up. Marc is, was and always will be my light and I know it’s the same for him with me.

This went on until we had our last child. Then something miraculous happened: I started to heal. To this day I don’t know why and honestly, I don’t much care: Life came back to my heart again and that was enough.

However, the universe wasn’t quite finished with me yet. Two years after our last child was born, I was put on a medication for my pain condition and at the same time a big crisis came up. This medication had the side effect of destabilizing a person’s mental state, particularly in women, even in normal circumstances. I had a full breakdown. During this breakdown, I finally came to the end of myself and a new state opened up to me, but I wasn’t ready for it at the time. At this point, Marc shone his brightest to date: He seemed to understand everything completely and gently guided me back to full strength. It took seven years to recover and safely access the state I now have available to me. We were stuck doing it all on our own, despite asking for help. In going through this last trial, I got the rest of the answer about the meaning of life I was searching for. Once I had it, the universe decided it was time for me to rest and just enjoy my life.

As you can see, there were still many bumps along the road we travelled, but Marc and I walked together along it hand in hand. The main difference is that I can now feel his hand in mine - the numbness is gone. The world’s color has slowly come back and I can hear the laughter of my children clearly now without my heart breaking.

This life of mine has led to many powerful gifts:

I am able to understand people better than anyone I know. I can relate to almost any experience. I know what it takes to make a relationship work, whether it be a parental one, a platonic one, or a romantic one. I learned the meaning of life which is not terribly useful by itself since it’s only value lies in sharing it. I learned what enlightenment is and what true love really is.

The second biggest gift is the knowledge that the universe works on love and it wants that for everyone. The single biggest gift was Marc: His love, his understanding, his belief in me and his unswerving devotion to me. As for me, under all the pain and numbness, I loved him with the same intensity all the way through. It was his love for me that healed such a broken heart. It was love that let me hang on through all the darkest hours. It was love that brought me back from them and it was love that brought me back into a world of light, color and wonder. This is what real life romance really is.

And just so you know, the meaning of life lies in the experience of love, but it isn’t love: It’s what you do with it that helps you find the answer.