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11:47 a.m. - 2011-02-14
Kiss me, you fool!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Trust me, I know how lousy this day can be. Whether you're single and don't want to be or in a relationship that stinks and today just rubs it in about how crappy it is or you simply don't care for hyped up, consumer oriented faux-holidays, I can dig it.

Mind if I get a little mushy anyhow?

I thought not. You guys are Good People.

Yes, Mick and I have done/are doing all the traditional stuff, though parceled out over the weekend and into today as time and privacy permit. Monday is a weird and difficult day to put together the typical swanky restaurant dinner-for-two followed by dancing or a show, plus smooching and hot monkey sex (with or without the tacky lingerie). Especially if you've got kids and a job.

Last night he and I went out for dinner and saw a movie. 'Sixteen Candles', believe it or not. AMC is doing Retro Sundays and hosting retrospectives of newer classic movies. Mick missed the whole Hughes phenomena back in the 80s, a little too old and a lot too grumpy to be bothered with teen romantic comedies. It was a pleasure to introduce him to one of the best. He loved it. Laughed all the way through and puddled up a little at the end when Sam and Jake kiss over the lit birthday cake. The theater wasn't packed, but did pull in a respectable number of viewers, especially for a Sunday night. A few couples. A lot of women around my age accompanied by their teenage daughters, and some other more random groups including one gang in full 80s regalia. It was nice to see Duckie hasn't been forgotten. (Wrong movie, but what the heck, eh?)

Tonight it's my turn to provide the meal which, like Mick's birthday dinner, is the largest of his gifts. The man needs very little by way of material things so aside from a token goodie or two, preparing a super delicious luxe dinner with all the trimmings works for both of us. He gets his feed on and I'm not left stumped and stupid wandering around stores wondering what to get a guy who doesn't need anything. I love cooking for Mick. He eats with such honest appreciation that I cannot resent slaving over a hot stove on a day that's supposed to be my special day too. With Mick pretty much every day is Valentine's Day for me anyhow.


Stone truth. My whole life I lived cheek and jowl with resentment. Every single day I got slammed with reminders about how much it sucked to have me around stinking up everybody's life. I was made to understand just how wonderful they thought their lives would be if only they weren't stuck with horrible me. Dreams and ambitions went unfulfilled. Money that could be used for their pleasure was grudgingly spent on keeping my sorry ass alive. By word and deed and attitude all I ever got was, "If it weren't for you I'd be…whatever." Happy. Free. Successful. Anywhere but here. Your fault, LA. You are the cause of my life's suckage. I have nothing because of you.


Now I live with someone who thinks I'm wonderful. That because of me his life is exponentially better than he ever imagined it could be. That he is a far better person and so very happy he got to find that out. Because he has me.

I should mind cooking up a nice dinner for someone who loves me like this?

Yesterday Mick and I got to have a long rambling conversation which had started off about some grim possibilities in the near future (budget cuts loom large) and ended up being about us. As partners, best friends. Somewhere in there I told Mick it was NOT his job to make up for all the bad things that happened to me before he got here. He insisted otherwise. I was distressed. I wanted to be sure he understood that I don't expect that of him. Mick doesn't owe me. How could he? Nothing that came before was his fault! Mick said it didn't matter. I was his. His love. His responsibility. When he saw how torqued I was getting he twitted me a little and asked how often a guy got to be a hero just by taking his wife to a movie? It worked. I stood down and laughed with him. Okay, he had a point.

Yet it didn't take long before I slotted off into being distressed again. How could he NOT resent me? Look at me! I'm not beautiful anymore. My career as a writer is a flop. I have weird difficult children and an ex-husband in my backyard. My house is 101 years old and showing its age. How could he go to work every day and come home to this mishegoss and not be upset? He deserved better.

Mick hugged me tight and then asked me to sit up and look at him. "Baby, listen to me. I want you to understand this, it's important. I would have to go to work no matter where I was. I'd have to mow the lawn and wash my clothes and take care of the cars anyway. Do you get it? That's just plain fact. It's life! I can't resent having to take care of crap like that, it's reality. Whether I had you or not it would need to be done. But what I do have now is you. Someone who loves me and is glad of me. I don't care how much money you make or how weird your kids are, what matters to me is coming home every day and you're there smiling and you kiss me and ask about my day and you really care. Every goddamn day. Every day you teach me something new. Look at me! Thanks to you I am financially solvent. I laugh. I get a step-son to love. Because you helped me turn my attitude around my bosses love me now. The guys at work are my friends. I'm happy to wake up in the morning! I never had that before. And you want to say you're not worth anything? That you're trouble and mess? Not even close. So be quiet with that, okay? Really."

"Okay. I'll try."

"Good. Now blow your nose and kiss me."

I did.

Told you it was mushy. ~LA

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