STRANGER THAN FICTION: CHIVALRY FADES BUT LOVE ENDURES

Watching a young couple in Manee Thai last week, I was reminded at how fun romance can be.

The Other Half was downing his rama while I sipped my tom kha and watched a handsome man drive up in a sports car for some takeout.

That's dinner after nearly six years of marriage -- sipping soup, maybe making a little small talk about work and getting a cheap thrill out of watching gorgeous people of the opposite sex.

And then they arrived, a boy and girl average in every way except for in their adoration of each other.

They couldn't have been more than 18. He was driving a rattletrap subcompact, she was the passenger. He hopped out and opened her door before she could even touch the handle.

The Other Half hasn't opened the car door for me in two years, and then it was because I was holding a box of doughnuts on my lap and wasn't getting out fast enough for him.

Their arms draped around each other, the couple entered the restaurant. They kissed as the waiter seated them on either side of a table for two.

Not one for public displays of affection, The Other Half has never kissed me in front of a waiter, waitress, busboy, maitre d', wine steward, chef or any other restaurant employee.

The couple held hands as they ordered, only letting go to take a sip of water. When the boy excused himself to the restroom, he tenderly kissed his girlfriend goodbye, lingered while holding her hand, and then stared at her longingly while making his exit.

Mr. Half and I don't excuse ourselves to restaurant bathrooms anymore. We say: "Gotta go to the bathroom." Then we hastily depart.

When the couple's appetizers arrived, he served her first. And then they interrupted their chewing several times to lean across the table and kiss.

With Mr. Half and me, it's best nothing or nobody gets near our mouths when we're eating.

We left the restaurant before the couple finished their soup, so I don't know if they ended up making out at the table or what, but I'd watched them long enough to become slightly depressed.

I remembered a time when being apart long enough to use the bathroom seemed too long. When a simple phone call made the day perfect. When the sight of my sweetie's car pulling into my driveway was enough to give me palpitations.

But then I thought a little longer. And I felt better.

When I was 18, a simple phone call did make my day. But no phone call made life horrible. The sight of my sweetie's car made me ecstatic, but an argument with him felt like death.

It was up and down, up and down, my emotions tied to my relationships.

And then came The Other Half -- good looking but not pretty, well mannered and extremely shy.

I fell in love with him. And there were those emotional highs and lows, but none of them unbearable. I'd matured enough to realize tying one's total happiness to a man can only lead to heartache.

We married. We built careers together. We built a life together.

Maybe we don't kiss over spring rolls, but we can count on each other to be there no matter what.

Maybe he doesn't always open the car door, but The Other Half hears me out when I talk about my frustrations, just like I listen to him.

And maybe we don't kiss before using the restroom, but nobody's warmer on these cold Missouri nights.

Thanks for putting up with me, Jamie.

Happy Valentine's Day.