Before I met Daria, my definition of "romantic" was straight out of a Hollywood movie. It was about grand gestures, expensive dinners, dozens of roses, and dramatic declarations of love. Romance was something you performed, a series of big moments designed to sweep someone off their feet.
My relationship with Daria, which started with a simple message on sofia date, taught me how limited and exhausting that definition was. Our love story unfolded across thousands of miles, so the traditional romantic playbook was useless. There were no candlelit dinners or weekend getaways. Our romance had to be built out of smaller, quieter, more consistent things. Daria redefined "romantic" for me, not with gestures, but with actions. Romance was her remembering a small, offhand comment I’d made weeks earlier about a book I wanted to read, and then sending me an article related to it. It was her starting a video call and saying, “You look tired. Don’t feel like you have to entertain me. Let’s just sit here together while you relax.”
Romance became the act of sending each other photos of our respective sunrises, a way of sharing a moment even though we were hours apart. It was her creating a shared playlist of songs that made her think of me. It was me learning a few clumsy phrases in her language, not to impress her, but just to hear her laugh. She taught me that true romance isn't about the grand, occasional gesture. It's about the small, daily acts of paying attention. It’s the quiet, consistent effort of showing someone that you are thinking of them, that you see them, and that their happiness is a priority. It's less of a performance and more of a practice. It’s quieter, deeper, and infinitely more meaningful than a dozen roses could ever be.