A Fine Romance

It has been brought to my attention that I might not be a romantic and I've been wondering if that is such a bad thing.
We all have images and ideas of what constitutes being romantic. I thank Hollywood for most of them, though a few books and songs are guilty as well. But do any of these images translate to real life? Do we all really want the Clark Gable/Vivien Leigh kiss as Atlanta burns to the ground? Or are we hoping for the Pretty Woman ending, with our very own Richard Gere driving up in a stretch limo with a bunch of red roses? Maybe...but without Richard Gere please.
None of the men I've ever been involved with have been romantics, or at least not with me. I've never gotten flowers, never been the recipient of a grand gesture and I don't know if I mind. Sure it would be nice and all, but as I contemplate it now, I believe I just might giggle a wee bit too much to make it through such things.
I can admire chivalry such as a man holding the door open for me, pulling out my chair, walking on the outside of the sidewalk. But beyond that, I don't know if I can imagine much else. Is this a lack of imagination or just a lack of experience?
When I think of things that have seemed romantic to me, none of them are textbook: a guy waiting with me in the snow and the cold for 45 minutes so I can get Nathan Lane's autograph after seeing "Something Funny Happened on the way to the Forum"; receiving the full opera Don Giovanni from someone who doesn't really like opera but knew I did; being feted with a slew of Marvin the Martian paraphernalia after admitting my soft spot for the cartoon creature. In general, these moments are someone going out of their way to do something special for me especially when it involves something they don't really like.
Part of me does have those dreams of being kissed atop the Empire State Building or the admissions of love in the pouring rain, but none of that is really practical. It's nice to have these dreams, but maybe it's safer to have your expectations be grounded in reality.
Or maybe I'm just not a red roses, champagne, and diamonds kinda gal.