As far as courting scenes in books, it all depends. If it’s too overdone, then I’m probably fast skimming. It’s all in the balance. But then that’s how I am in real life too. LOL

“I want to prove to you,” he said, “that I have at least some of those tributes you dream of finding in a man.”

He continues with:
“I’m a man as well as a duke, Mrs. Derrick,” he said.

Finally, he adds:
And you have not been indifferent to that man,” he said.

Thus begins the wooing of Christine. He effectively and lovingly reveals to her the man behind the duke. *sighs*

I guess my husband didn’t court me so much as comfort me. It was an odd time for me, because my father was dying from cancer when we met, and I was preoccupied with that and helping my mom. But what he did was support me, spend money to drive me to see my dad, and stay alone in a motel for entire weekends so I could spend the time with my mom and dad. He asked me to marry him 15 days after our first date and we were married 6 months later. Dad lived long enough to know we were engaged and to meet Will, which was important to me. Will and I just celebrated our 27th anniversary last weekend.

My dh is the soul of generosity, especially with his time — when we were courting he joined me when I Christmas shopped for my family and organized the entire outing — and then helped me wrap the presents. Bit of a metaphor for the rest of our 30+ years later marriage

First date was a dance and a sleepover at his Parents house… a 3+hr drive in total that Sat by the time he’d drove from his apartment, to my parents, to his parents… BTW, his parents were home and were at the dance… It’ll be 16yrs in about 6wks since that date… never wore the mini-skirt again

I dislike when authors turn courting into bullying by the hero. Where they refuse to give the heroine personal space, her words meaning, and where her opinions are not validated.

One of the reasons I married him was b/c he didn’t twist what I said, I have my independance (ie. don’t have to ask permission to do something/financially) and we have unspoken ground rules (he has an “opinion” wrt the boys (autism) but no final “say” since the job of “nag” has become mine).

One night, I came back to my lonely apartment and found at my door a pair of red shoes painstakingly covered with red glitter accompanied by a note. The note said “Can I see you?” and had a phone number. I knew the handwriting and, despite all the pain this man had caused me, called him immediately. He asked if he could come pick me up and show me something. I waited for him and, when he came, got silently into his car. He drove to a house, parked in front of it and said, “I bought this house for you. Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life. I want you to marry me, move in with me, live with me and love me. You are the love of my life and I hope it’s not too late for me to win you back.”

I said, “What were the shoes for?” He smiled and said, “I was trying to show you the wicked witch was dead.”

That was on July 7th, 1987 and we’ve been together ever since. 22 years of marriage, four kids, and a life time of him courting me so that I never forget I really am the love of his life!