Yes, that's not a typo: valenTIMES. Don't ask me why, but I got in the habit, like a toddler, of calling it ValenTIMEs instead of Valentine's, and here I am. So Happy ValenTIMEs, y'all. I'm gonna go watch Dora now.
I was listening to my morning radio show - lots of dry wit, which is about all I can handle early in the day - and they were mentioning how much men spend on V-Day vs. women (much more, as you can imagine). I guess I bristled at the inequality, and I was even more determined to carry out the mission I dreamt of a few nights prior: Man Night.
Let me explain: Jason is one of the greatest husbands known to man, mostly because he deals with my polar moods and hormonal ambivalence - I want this; no, I want THAT - and still manages to knock my socks off on a regular basis by his quiet strength and loving me despite the above. And because of my crazy nature, he's had to sacrifice some things that I know he misses now and then. So, since I know he will be treating me to something nice and romantic on Friday night, I decided to treat him with Man Night, where I served him two foods I usually avoid due to their threat to my waistline (homemade lasagna and homemade chocolate-chip cookies) and movies I normally don't care to see (action movies - in this case, I bought him The Bourne Identity and The Bourne Supremacy). I made sure he had his favorite beer (Killian's) in a frosted glass, a bag full of dark chocolate (his favorite), let him sit like a king in his Man Chair where he didn't have to lift a finger. Let him burp and fart and hock phlegm like it was all music to my ears (and nose).
Before you all think I post this to get my ego-stroke by bragging to all 3 people who read this blog, let me tell you that the smile on his face got progressively bigger as he saw the candy, the movies, the lasagna, the beer in frosted mugs. But when I came out with homemade chocolate chip cookies as the final touch, the look on his face was one I will never forget. I was actually afraid he might cry, he was so bowled over. He stopped right in the middle of the movie, gave me the most tender look, kissed me, and laid his head on my chest. You couldn't have given me any greater reward.
On a slightly sappier note, I was driving home from class this afternoon and reflecting on the last month or so. I have some of it chronicled in previous posts, and yes, it sucked worse than a vacuum. It's been a pretty low time, really: everything from losing a life to gaining weight to being yelled at to feeling like I was worse than dirt on a fairly constant basis. But I also thought about how all of my friends and family have stepped up to the plate: while I have still had all those crappy things I detailed above, I have been supported, prayed for, thought of, considered with compassion, and generally loved on. I don't know that I'll ever have the emotional faculties to express to each person how much their support literally kept me functional from day to day - I remember remarking to Jason that while I have never had the urge to harm myself, the thought of committing myself to escape from life has, in fact, crossed my mind frequently over the last few weeks. (Incidentally, doing my clinical work at a psych ward has brought me back to reality, so to speak: what a hole that place is. Blech.)
So, if you are reading this, then my thank yous and Valentime's love go out to you for showing me the best kind of love and bringing me back to life.
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