|Behold the miracle, we are holding hands:)|
Sunday, 20 January 2013
Book of Romance
I have been a bad blogger. Shame on me. This week has been crazy with four basketball practices, three soccer practices, six basketball games, one soccer game and one basketball tryout session. Plus a foster babe and a full time job. This parenting thing is really putting a damper on my social life, writing and wine drinking.
I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.
I have mentioned Dylan here and there in this blog, but haven’t really shared in-depth with you some of the funniest moments in my life with the man I share my life with.
Truth be told, I have not ‘gone there yet’ for one reason.
It’s not that I am worried about displaying or mocking Dylan and our marriage to the world. Come on now, it’s me. I’m not the kinda gal whose afraid to serve it up on a silver platter to you with all the glorious details.
It’s because our marriage could be a freaking blog of its own.
I don’t know where to start.
I am not going to make fun of Dylan today, rather turn it on myself after a thought provoking conversation we had the other night. Yes, over a bottle of wine. I get super smartical and deep when I am one glass in. I could solve the world’s problems. If only I could remember the next day what we talked about. I should learn to write that shit down. Oooh…in a list. I’m totally adding that to my to-do list.
The hot topic de jour was about chivalry and romance. Is the art of chivalry dead and what impact has the feminist movement had on men’s perception of women?
I know, deep right?
Anyways it was very boring and truth be told I lost interest very quickly. I started to think about other things as I nodded my head and stopped paying attention. I began imagining T-Rex’s trying to do the Macarena and if…..ah hell, now I can’t remember. I didn’t write it down.
But our conversation did make me think about romance, or lack thereof in our marriage. Let me be clear, this is in no way on Dylan’s part. It’s me. I suck at being soft and fuzzy and I do not have a romantic bone in my body.
Dylan is über romantic. Some say I am lucky. Usually it makes me roll my eyes and gag.
Dylan brought me two dozen roses when the girls were born. One dozen to mark each of their births. I got mad at the waste of money and questioned how ludicrous the price must have been in freaking January. Dude, those things just die and go in the garbage.
Trash is not romantic.
I have learned not to send Dylan to the corner store for ANTHING. Seriously, the man could fill a grocery cart at a gas station. Once I asked him to pick up some cough drops; he came home with one of each kind in stock. As he presented them to me like a chest of jewels, he explained that he didn’t know what kind I wanted, so he bought one of each. He was so proud of himself. You can imagine how annoyed I was.
There are things Dylan does for me that I do adore and I do not think these acts of love takes the giant strides of feminism back 100 years. He does not make me feel like less of a person because I own a vagina, but rather keeps the art of chivalry alive and well in our relationship.
Dylan brings me a cup of coffee in bed every morning. If there is not enough cream for two cups in the morning, he will give it to me without a blink of an eye. He will warm up my blanket in the dryer before I get into bed on cold nights. My man orders nachos when we eat out, even though he doesn’t like them but knows they are my favorite pub food. He gives me his jacket when it’s cold, fills my car with gas before I have to leave for work and my heart skips a beat whenever I see a little blue box with a white ribbon.
He has also learned that vacuuming is foreplay.
It’s the little things. He makes me feel special.
Dylan has a fictitious ‘romantic log book’ he keeps to record the miraculous moments in our marriage when I shock the shit out of him and do something, well romantic.
The book is 13 years old.
He is on page one.
1) Jessica layered my sauce and spaghetti tonight. That was nice. She even added cheese.
2) Jessica called me “honey” today. And she didn’t mean bee vomit.
3) Jessica gave me a spontaneous hug today in the kitchen. I wondered if she was about to give me bad news or had bought a new car.
4) Jessica popped my zit tonight. Even though I didn’t want her to and I screamed like a schoolgirl, she claimed she was ‘helping’ me and insisted I should consider this an act of romance and write it down.
I had a friend urge me to ‘push my own envelope’ and do something romantic. One of the suggestions was to write love notes on the bathroom mirror. My first question was, “Umm, whose gonna clean that up?”
I decided one morning to give it a go.
I noticed whiskers in the sink as I was brushing my teeth, so I took an old eyeliner and wrote on the mirror:
Confucius Say: Man who leaves whiskers in the sink makes for angry wife and lonely nights.
Then I sent a text message asking him to clean the mirror.
I told my friend about my great-big-giant romantic gesture. She shook her head and told me I missed the point.
Whatever. I owned it! Check and Mate!
I do keep a memory box of all the letters and cards Dylan has given me over the years as well as the movie tickets from our first date and other random mementos. Umm…hello, that right there makes me romantic right? Usually I would just throw that shit out. Clutter. I must really love him to be that mushy.
Put that in your book jackass!
The most romantic thing Dylan does? He fills my wine glass. That’s right, I have myself a wine bitch.
That’s true love. I am one lucky girl.