Love in Theory and Practice: Chapters 1-13

Florence, Italy

I can’t help but chuckle quietly as Elin ushers me into yet another museum. Since leaving Finland I’ve seen a nearly endless stream of churches and museums. It’s been a great trip so far; somehow she’s managed to find things to entertain me as well as her everyday.

While Elin enjoys looking around, I enjoy just being around. Despite how much I love my home and act like a hermit when I’m in Helsinki, I’ve always had an insatiable wanderlust, which luckily, Elin shares.

I never believed I would ever meet another human being whom was both tied to their home yet also unable to remain in one place too long.

We always laugh about how we love our house only when we’re away from it. But as we settle in together we’re becoming more and more attached to the place we’re building together.

We’ve just been to the Galleria dell’ Accademia, which is famous for housing Michelangelo’s David. I’d known about the statue before and never really given it much thought but seeing it in person really gave me a sense of the reality of it.

It’s intense to think that without modern technology someone hand carved the form out of a solid block of rock. Elin had smiled softly and just nodded while I’d told her about how amazing it was.

We are at the Uffizi Gallery or Museum, depending on whom you talk to. Here they have work by Giotto, Cimabue, Botticelli, da Vinci, Donatello, Michelangelo and Raphael. Elin taught me briefly about everything before we came in and even now she whispers little facts in my ear.

“After this we’ll go through the Vasari Corridor and go to the Pitti Palace.” She says quietly as we make our way through.

“I’m sorry, love, we’re going where?” I ask with a slight, immature little laugh.

“Pitti Palace.” She says. “Oh laugh all you want. You won’t be laughing when you see what they have. It has five main art galleries so there will a wider variety of things to see. There’ll be some modern art and some Medici galleries.”

She’d already explained to me that the Medici Family was a wealthy and powerful family that basically ran Florence during the Renaissance.

We also read The Prince by Machiavelli together before arriving in Florence. It was an interesting read and even more interesting do discuss with Elin.

She joked that we should name a son Machiavelli.

The more and more I think about having kids, the more terrified and excited I become. The idea of taking that kind of step, making that kind of commitment is a scary thought but the idea of making the commitment with Elin feels so natural I don’t even have to think about it.

After a day of sightseeing, we return to the hotel and I slump into an armchair. The window is open and a refreshing breeze blows in on to my face. I let my shoulders relax and I close my eyes.

“Here you go,” Elin says and drops something in my lap. I open my eyes to see one of my better suits cleaned and pressed.

“What’s this for?” I ask, rising to follow her into the bathroom. She’s in the shower already and there’s steam in the bathroom.

“I made plans for us tonight.” She says over the noise of the shower.

“What plans?” I ask. As much as I enjoy surprises sometimes, I’m not usually one to appreciate not knowing what’s going on.

“I know you hate surprises,” She says, peaking her head out from behind the curtain. Her hair is wet and her cheeks are red from the heat of the water. “But I really think you’re going to like this. Want to shower with me?”

I shake my head and chuckle. Elin only showers with me when she’s sorry for something or when I am not entirely happy. But I accept the offer and slip into the hot water with her.

When we’re done, I leave her in the bathroom to get ready. I pull on my clothes and wait in the armchair with a book. When she steps out, she takes my breath away. She’s dressed in a simple brown dress that hugs to her shape perfectly. Her hair is dreamily curled like the first time I met her.

She smiles at me and slips her black pumps on.

“Are you ready?” I can only nod and follow her out of the room. “Are you alright?” she asks with worry on her face as we walk down the hallway.

“Yes,” I manage to choke out. “It’s just that dress. It makes me want to take you back to the hotel room and never leave again.”

She laughs lowly and presses the down button for the elevator.

“Later my love, later.” She says with a wink.

We get dinner at one of the best restaurants in Florence and she talks casually without giving away a hint as to what our plans are for the night.

After dinner, we walk hand in hand down the street until we reach a theatre. I look at her with a confused look.

“Well, you know, my love, that opera was first invented in Florence in the 16th century.” She says with a wide grin.

“Are we seeing an opera?” I ask happily.

“Yes,” she says with a wink.

I have to admit that I’m interested. While I’ve always loved music, I’ve never taken the time to see an opera or anything of the sort.

We quickly find our seats (they’re great seats too, Thank God for Elin.) and settle in. She’s got the binoculars and programs all organized in her bag and she turns to me with an excited look on her face.

“Is it a good surprise? Or are you still upset with me for making you wait?” she asks while the lights in the theater are still on and people are still filing in.

“It’s a good surprise and I am surprised. I never even thought about coming out to something like this. But I’m glad you thought of it.” I say and squeeze her hand.

“Tell me again that you’re glad after it’s over. You’ll either love it, or you’ll hate it.” She says and turns her eyes towards the stage.

A few moments later the lights dim twice letting people know it is time to take their seats. And not too long after that, they go off again and remain off and the curtain comes up.

When we’ve made it back to the hotel, tired and ready for bed, I finally manage to cap the flow of words coming out of my mouth. Ever since leaving the opera house, I haven’t been able to shut up about how wonderful it was. Elin had just smiled placidly through out my rant and gently squeezed me hand occasionally to let me know she was listening.

She changes and washes her face before reemerging with her toothbrush to continue to listen to me talk. She’s wearing one of my t-shirts and it falls a little higher than mid thigh.

She leans in the doorway and brushes her teeth while watching me. I simply cannot explain how the opera had made me feel. I’m a rush of emotions and when I see her, the rush only increases.

She smirks and retreats back into the bathroom. A few moments later she comes back out and turns out the lights. She slips smoothly into bed beside me. Her arms wrap around me and the feeling of her fingers lightly on my skin sends chills up and down my spine.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she coos in my ear. Her breath is warm on my neck.

I place my hand on the side of her face and gently lean in to kiss her. She reacts and pulls me in aggressively. I growl and slide my hands around her waist and pull her tightly into my body.

I’d like to spend everyday for the rest of my life on honeymoon with this woman.