nf2_2892

Rebecca

I feel like he tricked me—or at least set me up. On our first date he gave me gifts, covertly stashed at the coat check at one of Manhattan’s nicest hotels. And then three weeks later: Tiffanys. So of course, I think I’m marrying a man who does that sort of thing. I imagine parades down Fifth Avenue, hot air balloons, Harry Winston.

To be fair, the ensuing courtship didn’t keep pace with that explosive start (how could it?). I should have been tipped off when we were dating and he forgot to get me a birthday present so instead, sitting in my apartment and pretending to check his email, he bought me something online and sent me an email saying so.

He didn’t get me something on Valentine’s Day that year either. We went to a cheap Thai restaurant with rubbery chicken. And the next Valentine’s day he got me a can of soda (not kidding). My first mother’s day? I can’t even talk about it.

I think he thinks he can get by with little demonstrations year-round. Like last night, when we fell into bed exhausted. Half asleep he rolled over and started massaging my sinuses. (Such love!)  Or last Saturday when he got up with the babe and left me asleep, returning an hour later with a breakfast tray. Does he think that him always carrying the groceries or opening the door or hefting the stroller is enough? That random love notes will suffice?

Levi I know I promised that I wouldn’t blog about how we keep staying up late to watch The Bachelor, but I can’t help thinking that Jason Mesnick would never pull this kind of garbage. He and the producers would make sure Valentines Day was always a really big—helicopter, limousine, roses, candles—deal.  Jason Mesnick wants the girls to know how he feels about them.

Don’t get me wrong. I like that you are always willing to cancel your plans to indulge mine. Or that you work harder at me accomplishing my dreams than I do.  I think it’s nice how you work all day—and a lot of nights—and then no questions asked hand me the paychecks.  Those things are wonderful.

But our love Levi. How will I know you love me if there aren’t Roman Candles exploding across the night sky? 

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