Romance isn’t dead. It’s just evolving. As this week’s beleaguered wife has discovered, thanks to her husbands pioneering efforts with “throwmance”.

It’s important to remember love isn’t something to take lightly. It’s heavy stuff, you know? So it makes sense to hurl objects in the name of it.

Anyway, let’s help this hapless human female out. As she’s having a bit of a hissy fit.

Romance and the Act of Hurling Objects Violently

Dear agony aunt. My husband, Simon ("Si") never was the romantic type. On our honeymoon he bought me a pint of Guinness. That was it. I don't even like Guinness, so he drank it and then did one of those man burps and then sat there looking smug.

That was 1995. It set the scene for our marriage. 

But recently, now he's into his 60s, it's like he's trying to make up for what should have been. He's written this thesis called Thromance: The Trials and Tribulations of Living With a Bitch For a Wife. He gave me a copy. On page 113 of 456 he writes:

"The modern woman is prone to sudden hysterics, flights of fancy, impulse shopping, and avoiding doing the dishes. The modern woman knows not what romance is. The modern woman merely wants to buy shoes. It is this crisis of identity I have identified and will address with the physicality of Throwmance. My hag of a wife will be my experiment point and I shall write my second thesis on the results of this noble endeavour."

What's going on is he's started throwing stuff at me. Things like:

- Doilies
- Footballs ("Catch, woman!" he goes)
- Sacks of charcoal
- Bags of cement
- Apples
- The occasional dart

My natural reaction was to object over this, but he says he's doing "God's work" and it's of vital importance for the future of "mankind". I pointed out his archaic use of language and he threw a banana at me. I've repeatedly asked him what he thinks he's doing, to which he responds, "I'm being Throwantic, woman! Didn't you read my manuscript!?" 

He's been encouraging me to throw things back at him. I wondered why, but on page 333 of his thesis he writes:

"Throwing is a physical act. Love isn't a physical act—it is a subconscious tomfoolery wodged in the depths of the brain. I believe that by obfuscating the act through the means of throwing, it will be possible to compel the modern woman to indulge in traditional practices of being."

I don't really know what he's on about, but the other day I didn't catch the basketball he threw at me and I ended up with a broken nose. 

We ended up in the police station over that, but while there he started throwing police batons at me! The police were baffled by his behaviour and gave him a night in the cells as punishment. 

When he got home last night he just muttered at me, "Romance is dead." Then he filed for divorce and threw a bucket of water over me... 

What does any of this mean!? 

Yours, Jane

Hi Jane. We spent a week mulling over your letter, which gave us time to indulge in this concept of Throwmance. This is what we found:

• Throwing chainsaws across the Professional Moron office was a bad idea
• The human body is too fleshy and malleable
• Noses are easily broken by flying objects

As you might be able to tell, we’ve had a tough time of it. We don’t condone your husband’s concept and recommend you punch him in the face.

Divorce is always a sad thing, but when you’re married to a sad act the very nature of it is essential to overcome the sadness to reach a stage of poignancy.

It’s the impossible nature of being, Jane… and the only way to overcome it is to learn to juggle. That way, you’re not so much throwing… but obfuscating the inevitable. And we’ve no idea what any of that means. We’re just trying to sound intelligent.