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Oprah Gleeful!

This year, my husband and I celebrated a BIG wedding anniversary (we were married the same year as the great dinosaur extinction) and if he can’t figure out what to buy me, I won’t care. Because the fact is, lots of times I can’t figure out what to get him. One year on our anniversary, he followed a theme — he bought me green pajamas, a green shirt, green panties, and a set of emerald earrings and a glorious emerald ring. The next year, it was pretty much nothing. Most years, we will go out to dinner for our anniversary, but very possibly not on our anniversary. It depends on what’s convenient.

Worse, we never were romantic. We didn’t pick out a china pattern. I almost broke my mother-in-law’s heart by declaring I didn’t want silver-plated anything. We didn’t go on a honeymoon until a year after our wedding. Then we went to Yellowstone Park (there was an earthquake while we were there—we’re almost sure we didn’t cause it.)

On the other hand, when we married we were in college and so poor our rings were simple gold bands. I’ve never wanted another ring. I don’t lust after a big diamond to symbolize our love. Our kids symbolize our love. My husband and I hold hands when we walk. I listen to his stories even though I’ve heard them all four hundred times (at least.) He lets me sing in the car even though, according to everyone who’s ever heard me, it’s a painful ordeal. Sometimes he buys me a present just because. And vice versa (nothing says true love like a combination flashlight/tire air pressure/key ring.) When we go out and he has a great dinner, he likes to feed me from his plate. Once I asked him why, and he said, “I don’t get to see that look of ecstasy on your face often enough.”

Yes, he makes me laugh.

He supported me for ten years while I wrote and wrote and wrote (unsuccessfully and without making a dime). He believed in me, which is the greatest gift an author can have. He's my best friend, and the reason I believe in (and write about) true love.

Which is not to say we haven't had our rough patches. There have been times when we would have gladly divorced each other. But something always held us back — usually a lack of money — and as Jack Benny once said, "My wife Mary and I have been married for forty-seven years and not once have we had an argument serious enough to consider divorce; murder, yes, but divorce, never.” We have taken that as our mantra. Quite frankly, we’re still stupid in love with each other.
So—what signs do you look for that prove a couple is in love? Is true love the same as romance? Do you think the kind of love we write about and read about in our books is possible in real life?