I’ve mentioned, at least once or twice, that my husband and I will be married twenty-five years in May, and we’ve been together over thirty years in all. Yep, a LONG freaken time. We began dating when we were teenagers. I always say I grew up with him and have had him IN my life longer than not.
When two people have been together as long as we have, it’s pretty darn easy to take each other for granted, therefore we try to remember to appreciate each other. It’s about the little things. Sure, he can go out and buy me flowers and jewelry, but if he doesn’t TREAT me well, that other stuff doesn’t mean crap. It’s also important to TALK and LISTEN, although with him being from Mars, I’m not sure how much he actually hears. So it’s a very good idea for me to keep my sense of humor in my back pocket at all times.
We went out to dinner and I decided I wanted to interview him for my blog. After ordering, I pulled my trusty notebook from out of my
“Oh my gawd,” he groaned.
We BOTH burst into a bout of giggles.
Picking up his Jack and Coke, David said, “Let me have about six more of these, then ask me.”
“What does THAT mean?” I asked, as I vigorously wrote in my notebook, thinking I really needed that voice recorder.
“I hear waves, Honey. I’m all done. Interview over.” He told me.
I looked up from my scribbling and shot him a dagger stare, as my son calls them.
“You want a serious answer?” he asked.
“Yes I do. It’s that hard?” The waitress took that precise moment to bring our salads, so I decided to give him a little reprieve and said, “Okay, how about this. Describe...”
“Oh good,” he interrupted.
“As I was saying. Describe our relationship. In a few words,” I continued as I vigorously wrote each word in my notebook.
“I can describe it in one. Unexplainable. I mean seriously most people would’ve killed themselves by now,” he told me quite seriously.
“Okay. Next question. What…”
“Why are you writing this down?” he asked as he only just noticed me writing in my notebook, the dolt.
“I’m putting this on my blog.” I told him without looking up from my writing.
“Oh good. They’re gonna think I’m a dick.”
“No they won’t. Anyway, as I was saying. Stop interrupting me. Why do you love me?” I looked up this time and smiled sweetly.
He shook his head and chuckled, “Unexplainable again.”
“Now I think you’re a dick.” I smiled sweetly again before scribbling in my notebook. Damn it, why didn’t I get that voice recorder!
Laughing, he said, “I love you, Honey. But I don’t know why exactly. Oh wait. I know why. Must’ve been all that great sex you gave me twenty years ago. And when am I getting paid for this interview?” He didn’t fail me, the clown joined us for dinner, again!
“When you start paying me for sex again.” Good thing I’m fast with the come-backs.
“I give you my whole paycheck now.”
“You’re supposed to, that doesn’t count,” I told him without missing a beat.
“Okay, why do YOU love ME?” He switched interview tactics on me.
“Because you are the nicest guy in the world. Although when you aren’t, you are the biggest dick in the world.”
“And you are an angel. Like you have a halo over your head. But when you are a bitch, you’re an out and out disaster.”
We busted out laughing.
So there you have it. Either we are totally, madly IN love with each other, or totally out of our freaken minds!