Mr. Wonderful has an older and younger sister. This made him a master at irritating females.
He is consistent. He tortures me nightly at 10:50. I’m in bed, watching television. He comes in and lumbers around in front of the tv, scratching and dropping clothes on the floor. He always manages to interrupt the big dramatic finale/whodunit/reveal.
He never waits till 11p. I have missed the ending of a bazillion shows.
His finale is climbing into bed and flapping the covers around. Then he settles down with a book or the crossword puzzle.
Retaliation varies. Sometimes I pinch and bite, or fall asleep and snore really loud. Last night I turned on the Tyra Banks show. (Egad!) There were two women talking about “how he never tells me he loves me.”
Mr. Wonderful started to laugh, rolling towards me, making an angry face and jabbing his index finger at my nose. “Do you love me? I want to know RIGHT NOW.”
“I haven’t thought about that in years,” I confessed between giggles.
Here you go ashes_n_silver
We met because we worked at the same place. He was newly out of college. I had just broken up with my long-term bad boy and was in no mood for serious. We dated for three years and were definitely a couple before the question of “love” came up.
One day after work he said “why don’t you go eat without me, I’m not in the mood.”
Never ever promise me a meal and then renege. I said “FINE” and stomped and out the door. Later he told me the way I slammed the door made him realize that he was in big trouble. I took metro back to where my car was parked. He had driven there and was waiting for me.
It was a crowded shopping center parking lot on a bright summer evening.
I took one look at him standing there and shouted, “Do you love me?” People stopped and stared. His shoulders hunched up towards his ears. He was mortified.
I swear, something in my head popped loose. I was hopping up and down in a fury, all red in the face, with my arms waving around. He told me later that I was spitting as I talked, and my nose was running. “Do you love me?” I shouted again.
We had quite an audience; everyone coming out of the grocery store was stopping to watch the crazy girl screaming in the parking lot.
I hollered at the top of my lungs, “DO * YOU * LOVE * ME? I WANT TO KNOW RIGHT NOW.” I could feel my eyes bulging out of my head. I was poking my index finger in his face.
“Yes,” he told me quietly.
I was way too mad to calm down. “WHAT?? I CAN”T HEAR YOU”
“Yes, I love you. I just don’t want to do anything about it right now.” He spoke quietly to me, looking at my face.
“I wasn’t asking,” I shouted back at him, complete with finger jabbing, “if you wanted to get married. I just want to know if YOU LOVE ME.”
He hollered “YES” at the sky. I hollered, “FINE.” We stomped to our cars, slammed doors and peeled off to our separate homes.
I was pissed for about a week. He left me alone. Finally I went to his house.
“Why’d you get so mad?” He looked at me like I had nine heads.
“Well,” I explained, “I was hungry. I don’t think I’ve ever been that mad in my life. You must be special. I forgot to tell you that I love you too.”
When I thought about it, I realized that I should have told him what was in my heart when I first realized I loved him, instead of expecting him to tell me first. I was a big emotional scardy cat.