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Not a sentence to my name today. Couldn’t settle my thoughts enough, and this afternoon I’m taking Jon to part of his Valentine’s Day present; a spa day. Part of the present is that I go with him. In our typical fashion as a couple Jon loves being pampered, and I hate it. The ladies at the spa tell us that it’s usually the oppisate. Go fig.
So, I’m all dressed up in a skirt, even, boots, the whole nine yards. I’m off to play wife and girl. The wife I can do, but sometimes I’m not so comfy with the girl part. But tomorrow is V-Day, and for all those other spouses out there, I sympathize with that sometimes frantic rush to get the right gift, the right event, the right mood, so your sweetie ends the day happy.
Why am I the one planning the day? Jon and I have a deal. I do Valentine’s Day, and he does my birthday, because they are only days a part. I made my first husband do both. Honestly I didn’t understand how taxing it is for a guy to come up with two big events within days of each other. I realize now that if my ex hit Valentine’s day well, he was doomed for my birthday, because he seldom came up with two gifts, two events, two whatevers that were equally nifty. He must have struggled for years, with me oblivious. When Jon and I got together I suggested the deal. So, I do V-Day, and he does B-day.
I think what made it ocurr to me was that when Jon and I were dating, I did events for him. Like take him a picnic lunch to his office when he had to pull an all-nighter. I sent him flowers at work, poetry. He loved it, but it put me in the position that is more typically male. It let me know just how hard you men have been working over the years to make the women in your lives happy.
I tried some of this with my first husband, but it wasn’t his cup of tea. It made him uncomfortable. Jon took all the attention I could lavish on him. I liked that.