“It’s a frugal card,” I assured him. “Hallmark sent it to me.”
Seriously: I’m a member of the company’s Gold Crown loyalty programs, and Hallmark recently mailed both a love-you card and a birthday card. I was supposed to have had them scanned at the store to earn extra points, but I keep forgetting to do that.
After two years of living together, DF and I still “delight in each other’s company,” as he puts it.
Do we ever. Whenever he walks into the room my heart still does a funny little dance, not unlike the kind you see in “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”
Sometimes I’ll glance up from reading or writing and catch him gazing at me with what I can only describe as a moon-eyed calf look.
Then he’ll grin ruefully at own besottedness and say, “I really love you.”
I still can’t quite believe that I found the perfect guy for me: smart, caring, well-read, a great conversationalist and the world’s greatest cuddler. DF is always thinking of and doing things for others. He’s more than fair in the division of household chores. Upon request he’ll play the theme from “Astro Boy” on the piano, but will also play Brahms’ Intermezzo in A, which he describes as “the universe in three pages.”
Is his performance as good as the one by Emanuel Ax? Of course not. Except that it’s actually better.
He listens when I speak – actually makes eye contact and, judging from his responses/answers, weighs my words carefully. (I make sure to do the same for him.) DF wakes up with a smile every day and a “Good morning, treasure” or “Good morning, beloved.” Hard to resist a guy who’s always cheerful even when cars break down or snow needs shoveling.
Every little thing I do is praised to the skies. And I do mean the smallest things. “You made Jello,” he’ll sigh, as though boiling up a kettle and opening a little box were culinary genius.
“Geeks in love,” he calls us. True. The fact that we find many of the same things fascinating and are willing to learn more about unknown topics is one more thing that unites us. Recently he read long sections of “Historians’ Fallacies: Toward a Logic of Historical Thought” aloud in the evenings — at my request.
And what was I doing while I listened? A jigsaw puzzle. Yep, we’re hopeless.
Dissecting the daily paper, listening to “Saturday Night at the Opera,” hanging clothes out on the line, walking to the post office, shredding home-grown red cabbage to pickle – each of these things, however mundane, is wonderful because we’re sharing it.
Incidentally, he did say “Happy Valentine’s Day, love” today. As did I. We’re not anti-Valentine, we’re just anti-commercialization. I believe that love is too important to relegate to a single square on the calendar. The fact that he demonstrates his love every day beats the hell out of an obligatory dozen roses every 14th of February.
So here’s to you, my friend, lover, court musician, punmeister, personal chef and staunchest supporter. Thanks for teaching me to recognize happiness. And thanks for providing the raw material.