This is me, three years ago today. I thought that this picture would be appropriate for today since I’m alone in it, and that’s basically how I’m going to spend my day, since my life seems to be one big funny sitcom complete with the stereotypical forgetful husband.
On Sunday Ryan told me he had practice on Wednesday. I said okay and didn’t give it much thought until last night, when I remembered that he told me that. Knowing that today was our anniversary, I asked him again, “do you have practice tomorrow?” He said yes. I just kind of sighed and sat on the recliner and he went back to rearrange his fantasy football team. I wasn’t upset, you see, because I know my husband probably better than he knows himself. And I knew that in his mind he was quite aware that today was our anniversary, but his brain wasn’t matching up the fact that he had scheduled band practice on the same day.
Later on after we retired to the bedroom Ryan said to me, “Hey, tomorrow is our anniversary. What do you want to do? Go out to dinner or something?” I calmly replied, “Um, don’t you have practice?” His face fell. “Yeah… SHIT. Are you mad? I’m so sorry!” I just nodded and smiled and acknowledged that yes, having a penis does in fact affect the way your mind works. Duly noted, many times (c’mon, guys, you know it). He offered to move practice to Thursday instead and I said, “do whatever.” This morning I told him not to bother because we have a doctors appointment tomorrow evening and to me that’s more important than going to dinner tonight.
In some ways I feel kind of let down but at the same time I don’t really care that much. For our first anniversary I had just started working at Target and he brought me dinner from Panera which we shared in the food court. Romantic, no? Last year I made him dinner and waited around patiently for him to get home from work. So really, I’ve never had much of an anniversary celebration. Every day is a celebration of our marriage. Really. (insert gagging face here)
Oh well. He might be a bumbling idiot but I love him. I can’t help it. I must feel sorry for him. At least he’s entertaining. And fodder for my blog on his better days. He has music, I have this.
I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat.
I was serious about the doing it all over again part. I may not have a picture perfect marriage, but it's pretty damn close to being exactly what I want it to be. I don't want anyone to feel all sorry for me or anything, because sometimes life is just what it is, imperfect. Besides that, I'm a walking ball of emotions and hormones, and I tend to write most about the things that frustrate me instead of the things that make me happy. I love Ryan, and I know he loves me more than anything. He'd drop everything in a minute if I asked him to, but I refuse to do that, because what's the point?
We'll have our time together tomorrow evening, after going to the doctor to check out Fuzzball. With any luck we'll get to guesstimate how big the Fuzzball is and how much it's going to hurt coming out of my vagina and exactly when that might happen. Then we're going to go eat spicy Mexican food and probably have sex. With any luck that will get things started and I won't have to work on Friday. Wouldn't that be nice? But like I said, life is imperfect, so who knows what will happen.
(Keep your fingers crossed for me anyway).