[imperfect_cupcake]

Totally. I love little things. Personable and individual. Things just for me.
My exwife used to carry the bags home on the bike after grocery shopping, not because she wanted to be a gentleman, but because she didn't want my front tire to wobble and thus possibly get smucked by a car.
She would find me a seat at an event 30 min in not because that's the chiverlrous thing to do, but because she knew 30 min was the time limit of my sore feet in heels.
Probably the most romantic thing she ever did was when I had food poisoning in her sisters bed in the middle of the night. On a brand new super expensive mattress. I knew how freaked out and upset her sister would be. I was in a state. What did she do? She woke up her sister and told her she had done it because she drank too much. Even though she caught the wrath of her sister for three days over it.

That's love. That is romance. Someone taking the shit for you because they can't bare seeing you sick and upset. Fuck flowers and poetry. Cleaning up my puke while I'm crying, lying to your own family and going out to get carpet cleaner to wash the mattress with is stellar romance.