My husband vowed more than a week ago that he would not be buying anyone anything for Valentine’s Day. Not even me, the sealed-by-law, built-in valentine.

At first, being the middle-aged woman that I am, I was nonplussed. I mean, COME ON!

As the day approached, however, I became resigned to the fact that there would be no flowers and box of chocolates waiting for me after work. In fact, I realized this week that my husband’s stance made a lot of sense.

Neither of us have ever been very romantic. There was no slow-motion, love-at-first-sight meeting; no horrifyingly public marriage proposal; no tropical getaways for our anniversaries.

We have always been a pretty practical, logic-minded couple. We make decisions about our relationship by weighing positives and negatives; choose to save our money rather than splurge on expensive vacations.

As a pair, we don’t make choices in emotional or impulsive ways. We appreciate the simple things.

We have always stayed true to ourselves — and yeah, that means neither of us is super romantic in the obvious kind of way. But it fits us, and we don’t feel like we’re missing out on anything.

#Couplesgoals, right?

Now, don’t get me wrong — it’s not that he is never romantic …

He often buys me flowers for Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day. On my birthday he always bakes and decorates a cake for me. When I’m sick, he serves me dinner in bed and makes me tea.

The most romantic thing he does? The laundry.

He knows very well that I hate our basement, where the washer and dryer are. It’s wet and dank and there are humungous flesh-eating spiders that live down there. It’s a death trap, for crying out loud and I am raising his children!

So, the man brings my dirty laundry downstairs, puts it in the washer, transfers it to the dryer, and brings it all back upstairs again.

And if he really wants to be in my good graces … sometimes he’ll even fold it for me.

No, we have never been to a Sandals resort or drank a glass of chardonnay in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. And no, we don’t go to $300-a-meal restaurants, and we have certainly never fed each other chocolate-covered strawberries (gross).

But when I buy him a gift for his birthday or Christmas I don’t go for the crappy cards or a watch he’ll never wear. I put time in to get him something he’ll really enjoy or something he can really use. When we go to the movie theater, I usually let him pick — because I like being able to give him something he wants.

Romance isn’t found in the crap on the holiday shelves at Walmart. It’s not in the amount of money you spend, or heartless grand gestures.

It’s in the everyday, mundane thoughtfulness. It’s in the acts of kindness to each other. It’s listening when your partner has had a bad day.

It’s in cooking your wife chicken nuggets when she really just doesn’t want to get up off the couch but she’s sooo hungry.

It’s in getting up out of bed to shut all the lights off when your husband was the last one to lie down and he forgot.

It’s in making the best of what you have together, even when you’re broke.

Sure, I like the flowers. But I like it more when he brings me home a surprise Kit Kat.

Marla Hoffman is the managing editor for local news at the Sun Journal and can be reached at [email protected].