Water your own grass

There’s a logical reason behind my repulsion to romance novels and love drunk movies. It’s not that I don’t like a few sweet nothings, but love edited for entertainment creates disillusionments about the wonderful world of love and marriage.

Roses are red. Violets are blue. Blooming flowers get old and die too.

I don’t mind getting flowers on Valentine’s Day. I can’t say that I think they are the perfect token of love; nevertheless, they are easy for my husband to buy and giving them makes him happy. He personally delivers them to my office. When the other ladies see him walk in with bouquets as broad as his shoulders, they just gush (some figuratively; some literally). I squeal, “Oh Honeybun!! You’re so sweet!” He gushes. We give each other a quick kiss, he gets a little blood flow, and his Valentine mission is accomplished. He’s happy. I’m amused.

I know flowers are a one size fits all gift, which is why I don’t mind getting them. I love my Honeybun. I’m not here to make his love life super complicated. He picks what looks pretty to him, just like when he chose his wife 🙋🏽. I keep them alive as long as I can so he gets his monies worth. That makes him happy too. When they get to where I have to throw them out, I tell him, “Oh Hun, I gotta let my flowers go.” 😔 “Well they did good Bae. They lasted [insert number of days].” The longevity of his gesture becomes our aphrodisiac.

“Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.” ~Forrest Gump’s Momma I am partial to candy. I don’t like the big boxes though. I want the little $1 boxes. He knows this. We’ve discussed it. He can do flowers his way, but I run the candy game. Anyway, he brings me little boxes every few days during the 14 day romance window. I probably end up with about 20 boxes 💁🏽 And I love it!! I lay across our bed, watch TV, and devour a box. I sit in my chair and read while scarfing down another box. I take a few to work, so I can dreamily chew on chocolate surprises throughout the day. I am happy. He’s amused.

It’s not about the candy. It’s about the “no judgement”. He is willing to fuel my fantasy of living the life of leisure that my little candy boxes represent. He see the delight on my face, so he doesn’t comment about how many empty boxes are on my nightstand. I get to not be giving, because I don’t share my sweet treats. Not even with my pretty little grandgirl. Nope and grandad can’t buy her any either. Oh, she’ll rat me out for sure, “But Granddad. Sweet’s not sharing.” He explains, “Those sweets are just for Sweet.” Chocolates from him belong to me. They’re my sweet nothings.

Character is what you display in front of people. Integrity is who you are when you think no one is looking.

He gases me up! Every Sunday! Without fail! 🚗💨 I get in my car on Monday morning feeling prepared for the week. Tank is full. Air pressure and fluids checked. ✔️ Dashboard Armouraled down. Any trash (water bottles, fast food bags) from the weekend has already been disposed of. Now that is enough to make me wanna roll over on him❤️ I’m happy. He’s happy.

I will admit I gassed him up on the idea. We going for a ride one day and I suggested that he should gas up my car every Sunday. I told him other husbands may do it and I want it too. He looked at me and loving said, “Who the fuck we know that does that? Where did you get this idea from??” 🤣 then he laughed hysterically. I pouted and then cried (I’m menopausal; crying happens often). He stopped laughing. I admitted that no other wives I know get that. Maybe my granddaddy use to do it. I don’t know 🤷🏽‍♀️ but I want it. “Honey…You’re better than all the husbands we know. They know it. Even their wives think so. You can show other men the way. It might not be for everybody, but you can let it be for me.” He smiled. He’s done it for me ever since.

The grass is always greener on the other side, but if you take care of it, you can have green grass too!

These aren’t the things I read about or see in movies. They are not rose petals in the bath or riding butt naked on a filly. They are not grand. They are not expensive. They’re basic. That’s what makes them better than anything caught on film. They are the real wonderful world of love and marriage. ❤️❤️