This Much is True

The first time I danced with my Hunny I was 13 and he was 14. The song was “True” by Spandau Ballet and we were in my friend Patty’s back yard – it was an 8^th grade graduation party. Our first kiss happened when we were both 15 (took him long enough!).

Our relationship was on-again-off-again over the course of a couple years during high school. I broke up with him for the last time my junior year because there was a boy at school I liked – and my Hunny, it seemed, was always on restriction – we never, ever got to see each other.

I saw him again – in passing – when I was 21, married and a new mom. I was Christmas shopping at Target – he was the front-end manager there. We said a brief hello then he had to get back to work.

Fast forward a bunch of years (about 20). No longer married and exploring the world of social media I did a search for him on Facebook. Of course, since his name happens to be very common there were a gazillion matches. I looked through several pages before I gave up – no one looked like the boy I remembered.

Then it happened. One morning as I settled into work I got a notification on my smart phone that I had a new friend request on FB…it was him!! I let out an audible squeal followed by a too-loud-for-work “No fucking way!!” He looked EXACTLY the same. Of course, I immediately clicked on “accept” and sent a message that said “NO WAY! How the heck have you been?!” He answered an hour or so later.

****

I danced with My Hunny again when we were both 40 – we were in my kitchen and the song was “True” by Spandau Ballet. When we kissed again, after so many years, it was exactly as we remembered – I wondered aloud how it was possible that he even "tasted" the same.

It is as if our love was always there – waiting for us to reconnect – as if our souls were connected even when our bodies were apart. Perhaps we had lessons we had to learn before we could be happy together. Corny? Maybe.

So what - it feels real to us. I read a book once where the souls of two lovers found each other in every manifestation of their lives – no matter what the time period – and they always recognized each other…maybe that’s how it is with my Hunny and me?

Doesn’t matter either way…he loves me more than cake =)

WHOA! Creepy!

I tend to have lengthy conversations, with myself – in my head.

Under most circumstances I do not consider myself ADD, however, during these internal chats I tend to jump around a lot.

Case-in-point:

Last night my Hunny and I were in the kitchen making roast beef sandwiches for dinner (was too lazy to cook anything - what with all the vacation prep I’ve been doing). I asked him to get out the condiments he wanted on his sandwich (already had mine out on the counter). He handed me the mustard and I said “Ick. Are you sure this is all you want?” (I am not much of a plain mustard fan – especially on a cold RB sandwich). Hun’s response was “I don’t understand why you don’t like mustard and its yummy goodness.” I just shrugged.

Then the internal rant began while I assembled the sammiches:

Mustard isn’t all bad. Sometimes I like mustard on my hamburgers – if I’m in the mood for it. In fact, the last time we are at The Lake I had mustard on my burger and it was good. The Lake! I am so glad we are going there again this summer. I wonder how many times we’ll have burgers this year? I wonder if the grill has a full propane tank? If not we can just go out to eat…mmmmm clam chowder in New England…Hey, we can have go to that lobster place too…good thing lobster isn’t as expensive there as it is here cuz I’m gonna want to have it a few times while we are there…ugh but the boyz are coming this year…and that other extra person…ugh…I wonder if she is going to have the cash for the eating out portion of the trip…

Then, out loud, I said:

“That’s going to be so awkward.”

And Hunny said:

“I know, I wonder if she’s thought of that part.”

Me: “Huh?!”

Hun: “Cash for extra stuff. Hope she has some cuz we don’t.”

I just stood there. Stunned. Silent. Hun stared back and eventually asked me WTF was my problem.

Me: “How the fuck did you know what I was thinking about?”

Hun: “Dunno. I mean, really, we’ve been together for a long time – even when we weren’t together we were ‘together' (more on that later).So, yeah…I know what you are thinking.”

Me: *snort* “Uh huh? Ok…but that was just…creepy!”

And, with that, he took his sandwich and walked away.

I just stood there…still a bit stunned. How in THE HELL had he known exactly what I was thinking about? All I said was it would be awkward – the rest of the “conversation” took place in my head.

OMG!! Is he like Sookie? Can he hear my thoughts?!?! SHIT! I hope not…cuz if that’s the case he knows way too much! Crap! 

More Than Cake

My hunny loves cake.

Let me expand upon that a bit: if he was on death row his final meal would be nothing but cake – with buttercream frosting - but, ONLY the kind made from the recipe on the back of the C&H Powdered Sugar box (that is very important).

This past Christmas (when I was making fudge, and baking oodles of cookies and dipping candies) his only concern was “When will there be cake?” (Really? Because where I come from there isn’t usually “Christmas Cake” – just sayin’.)

There is a special cake he likes to have as his birthday cake – it has Oreos in it and on it. I bake it special every year (he only gets this cake on his birthday - no other time during the year). It is HIS CAKE. As in, if you touch his cake, and he catches you - you are dead, and no one will ever find a body.

You get the picture, right? He LOVES cake. Like *love*, loves it. A lot.

Today, he told me he loves me “more than cake.”  

I am not at all confident that I know how to handle this situation!! The man says loves me “more than cake”!! That’s sorta like an addict loving something more than his drugs…or a hard-core Trekkie (the kind that wear the uniform and Spock ears) loving something more than Star Trek.

This. Is. Big.

This is bigger than big…this is life-changing!

We may have to “next level” this thing! 

Not So Fly

Actual conversation with my 14-year-old son…this past weekend, in the car, while driving to the store to buy him some clothes – because he has outgrown every single thing in his dresser!

14yo: YES! Gonna get me some fly threads!

Me: Excuse me?

14yo: Yup! Gonna be some fly threads…like a G6!

Me: Hey buddy! We are on a budget here. You might have to settle for something a bit less…a G3 perhaps?

14yo: MOM!! Really? *groan*

Me: Yes, really…unless you have a job and some cash hidden away somewhere I don’t know about.

14yo: FINE! (folds arms across chest and exhales dramatically) What about G4?

Me: Nope. G3.

14yo: How about G3 ½??

Me: Dude! You will wear what I buy for you.

14yo: G3 ½?

Me: What is this?

14yo: I’m negotiating…like on Pawn Stars.

Me: (facepalm) Great! Well, it’s not going to work.

14yo: ARGH! Fine mom. G3. You don’t love me.

Yes, my boy! That is definitely it! I obviously do not love you – at all! In fact, I spend hours of my free time thinking of ways to show the world exactly how much I do not love you. For example, by purchasing new clothing for you and forcing you to leave the house bathed, with brushed teeth and wearing clean/presentable clothing…sigh. Yes, definitely it. I do not love you! SIGH!! You big (literally, because you are taller than me) dork!