It’s almost Valentine’s Day! So exciting. Once again we can thrill to those little candy conversation hearts that come in delicious flavors such as “drywall dust” and “antacid.”
Cheap chocolate and chalky candy notwithstanding, some people are really into the romance of Valentine’s Day. The roses, the dining, maybe a shiny gift. It’s all so lovely. I love that for them.
I am the opposite of that.
I would rather stub my toe than go out to eat on Valentine’s day. A long wait, pressure to eat quickly to help turn over the table and a limited “special” menu due to the crowds all hold very little appeal to me. I am an early bird dining on a random Tuesday night sort of girl. I embrace that.
Flowers are nice but they inevitably die. I also have to find a vase and decipher if they are poisonous to the cat. He will make a beeline right for them if they are, I assure you. It’s just a whole PROCESS.
If we do go somewhere do I have to dress up? It’s too cold to wear a cute dress in February around here. I could wear pants but then the footwear isn’t really adorable. Nothing says sexy quite like a fetching pair of clunky snow boots. Then again falling on the ice and snow is also not super attractive. I think I look just as cute in one of Mr. Wonderful’s sweatshirts and “yoga” pants around the house. He has not yet spoken against it so I take this as a good sign.
Bling
I don’t wear much jewelry although I do love what I have. I am currently 0 for 2 on engagement rings. I lost my first engagement diamond over a decade ago. I lost my second diamond last fall. On my birthday I looked down and the diamond was just … gone. Happy Birthday to me. It is completely understandable if I am not on any shortlist for “buy her nice things.” It may be time to consider cubic zirconia. Perhaps a gumball machine ring?
Remember, if you love all of the above things I applaud you. You are normal! I’m the weirdo here. For me, I’m so excited to get the proverbial “acts of service.”
Every morning Mr. Wonderful gets up early so he can make sure the porch and steps are swept and salted so it’s safe for me when I arise a good two hours later. That is love to me.
He also makes sure my vehicles are safe. Tires? Gas? Oil? Check, check, and heart-shaped double-check. He will also clear off my vehicle before he trudges off to work. Heaven forbid I have to wield a snowbrush unnecessarily.
He spends his nights and weekends following one or another of my generally hare-brained schemes. He has clocked more miles picking up vintage “finds” I just had to have than I care to admit. I’m sure if I factor in time and travel I could have probably purchased some things retail but where is the fun in that?
He worked tirelessly to help out my grandmother. To be fair she is also the screensaver on his phone (true story). I should probably watch those two.
He has supported my dreams to be a writer and my being home with our kids. For that, I am eternally grateful.
Support
This is not to say I don’t reciprocate acts of kindness. Our love story is built on everyday kindness, cheerleading, and always having each other’s back. He wanted to start a business. I thought it was the silliest idea ever. Still, I supported it. Sure, I gave it six months, but it was a SUPPORTIVE six months. Of course, it took off because, well, he’s wonderful. Now I support it even more while taking credit for my early skepticism actually driving him to succeed.
I am also very good at keeping him fed and happy and taking lots of those little things off his mind so he can focus on being fabulous. Marriage really is a partnership, except when he’s working on our 999th plumbing project, then he’s on his own.
Just last night we had the occasion to drive GirlWonder somewhere due to the inclement weather. Law school events wait for no one. This meant we had THREE HOURS to sit in the car together. Thirty years into this journey together we had a wonderful time. We laughed as we talked about the past, present, and goals for the future. We made fun of ourselves as well. At one point we were simply mesmerized by the tractor plowing the snow off an upscale mall parking lot. There is no more yokel moment than saying, with pure EXCITEMENT, “that tractor is just like OURS!”
Ah, romance.
