It is when we are shopping together in sync that I know it is right. There are no issues or confusion. Maybe you just let me get my way, so that things flow easily. But you are happy doing that, you like to please me and you like me to be happy. So it is not a sacrifice to follow my lead and meet my wants. We move together, perhaps at my insistence. But I don't know it, so I am happy. To me it is perfection. I smile contently thinking to myself how impressively easy and wonderful it really is. I call you, from the other end of the store and ask your opinion of the boots. Knowing you will say the right thing, just wanting an opinion anyway. Wanting to see your expression and smile. I want to make the decision together. Even though my mind was made up and I was going to buy them. But you knew that also. Maybe a girlfriend would be better suited. But you are there and you will always make me feel pretty. And special. Telling me they look sexy and "not like a hooker". My words, not yours. I help with a sweater selection, pants that fit and a new tee, where latte was was spilled on the first. I don't mind the spill, but I know it concerns you, so I agree to a new shirt. I try to understand you, the way you do for me. Meeting my needs with a smile. It is comfortable, how I would have wanted it. How I would hope for. We share food. Easily deciding. I try hard not to push my wants onto you. I don't want to take advantage of the fact that you will always say "yes." I ask you to decide, to insure you get a voice and a want. I worry you will resent it all and one day pack it all up. Later, I say that between tears. Fear that I am too much and you ask too little, for yourself. But you smile along and agree to what makes me happy. Assuring me that is not how it is all. Still I worry that I am too in charge, too much and too bold. That you are too scared and too accommodating.
Afterwards, I am full, my button pressing into my belly and the gas begins to fill my stomach. You laugh when I roll down the window in preparation for a duck noise. Loud and stinky. "Oops, please forgive me," and you do. Smile, smirk, and comment that it is a smelly one. But I don't care, because it is said in good humor and because I know you don't care.
Following our errands, the long list near complete, we crash on the couch. Giggling together at Elf. This is my kind of movie. I can't handle much more. You know it and let me yell, laugh and point at the screen. Just like the first night, that time with Kicking and Screaming. Letting me rewind or pause when I have to use the bathroom. Again. And again. And again.
Sometimes we fall out of sync. I think you know it is time to leave. I think you know that was supposed to be the last drink. Cocktails and hunger prevail. I get antsy and irritable. You think I know that the broken appliance is important. You think I understand your requests and that we really need to address the problem. Today, not later. You think I don't respond properly or timely. When we are out of sync we are ugly. We stand on steps of restaurants, patrons politely give us space, and move away. We use hushed whispers to mask our annoyance. Tears are covered by the dark lighting of our seats. It is not nice. Not at all.
By morning, it is dog walking, toast, Paula Deen and computers. A wireless connection to make our personal connection easier and smoother. We spend the entire morning together. In our house. Our first weekend, relaxed. I use the treadmill and you handle tech support. We share coffee and use of the remote. There are roses. My favorites; a mixture of reds, peaches, pinks and white. It is not for the tears, it is for the year. One has passed since we were first introduced, "oh our friend will be meeting us soon, he went to law school with us." That night, all five of us sitting outside Bellas waiting for our name to be called. To steal from Sex and the City, "life happens when you are waiting for a table".
To continue to celebrate us, it is Happy Feet and three bags of candy. We are never this gluttonous, but it feels good and healthy. This time there is less laughter. Those Mexican penguins cracked you up. But it is scary and depressing. Not my kind of movie. You let me cover my eyes, bury my head, and tell me when it is over. You fill me in when I have to use the bathroom. I planned for a European Cafe, small plates, wine and hot cocoa. I planned for cold. It was 80 degrees and closed. We walked, enjoying the lights on the water, and the glorious hotel. Sneaking a peek at another's wedding. We stumble onto an English pub. Very cute, with a great view. European with outdoor seating and crazy good food.
"You know they took a spoonful of easy mac and deep fried it, right?"
"Yes. And I am so okay with that."
I am brazen and the wind has picked up. We are on the water. I chose a coffee cocktail, with Jameson. We both decide it is disgusting, I wrinkle my nose and swallow hard. It could have used some cream, but that's not me. Generally I am good with whiskey. It does the job and leaves me warm and tingly inside. Just like the whole weekend. Warm and tingly. We walk back to the car, arm and arm, in sync.
Labels: Everyday Life, Mr. Magoo
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megabrooke said:
I just got teary reading this post.
Mr. Magoo sounds wonderful. Isn't being in sync SO nice?- 10:25 AM
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anne said:
Thank you. It can be wonderful, refreshing and calming. I sometimes have to pinch myself.
- 11:13 AM
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said:
The in sync and out of sync both sound so very normal, and isn't that pretty much what we want anyway? I know I do, though I haven't always known it.
- 12:13 PM
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Cute Jewess said:
Thanks for the love, and I might have to see me some Happy Feet.
- 12:14 PM
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anne said:
It is totally normal, I think people are liars when they say it is "perfect all the time". You need the bad, to know the good. You also need it to iron out issues, so it does not become all bad.
So long as it goes back to in sync, things are going well.- 1:01 PM
