My Funny Valentine.
I’ll be honest with you; Valentine’s Day is here and I doubt I’ll be buying my husband a cuddly wuddly teddy bear, manly man tulips or a box of chocolate. I’ll for sure not be making him a handmade coupon good for one complimentary backrub. Chances are good he won’t even get a card. With everything that Jon and I have on our plates every day; one daughter born nine months from the time we consummated our marriage and two more born last year plus stressful jobs and deadlines, it’s a wonder we can stumble to the coffeemaker in the morning let alone celebrate our romance on a particular day designated for such activity. Let’s put it this way, we don’t schedule sex dates either.
But we still love one another truly, madly, deeply.
I’ve been with Jon for just about ten years which is a lifetime considering my less than stellar staying power in any previous relationships (my longest one before meeting Jon when I was thirty-three was just over a year). We have been through thick and thin (and yes, I’m talking about my waistline), weathered fights huge and inconsequential. I have a tendency to go all fight or flight on him, mentally packing my bags and imagining a battle till the end for custody of our big screen TV. Meanwhile my husband gets extremely (and reasonable) irritated when I pull out the gem “Well, if I’m so horrible, why are you with me? Maybe we should just not be together!” Oh yeah, I’ve been known to do that. More than once. And he will say “Why do you always need to take things to such an extreme? We’re arguing over who does more laundry –it’s not exactly marriage ending stuff. Let me know when you’re screwing someone else and then maybe we’ll talk.
In short, my husband, the man whose voice I still get excited to hear at the end of the day, is a great guy. But he probably doesn’t know how much I really do appreciate him because I’m usually too busy bitching to pay him his due, let alone give him much deserved oral pleasures. Lately, he’s lucky if I manage to sponge out the sink (with Lysol) in a massive gesture of love to show I care about his contact with germs. But today, I want to share with you just a few of the reasons I still swoon for my husband, still find him sexy and know I’ll be with him until the end. First and foremost; he knows me –I mean really knows me. For my fortieth birthday he didn’t throw me a party or buy me a gift certificate to Burke Williams, he sent me to Vegas with a girlfriend to compete in the women’s event in the World Series of Poker. He stayed home with our shorty while I drank and gambled and had the time of my life. I owe him a good forty or fifty more years just for that alone.
He’s a talker. When we argue over something significant, Jon’s in it until it’s over. And he listens, really listens and tries to understand my side, even if my side is psycho –which it often is.