In the past few weeks hubby has bought two gorgeous hanging planters for our back patio, surprised me with a pink digital camera, and suggested after lunch on Tuesday that we walk over to Target because he just loved spending time with me. Sigh …
Now hubby is a manly man. He wears two colors of socks: black and white. He loves beer. He loves football. He’s cooked a whole pig. He’s worked with broken ribs (his own). He’s tended bar. He can open a bottle of beer with his teeth. He’s done a lot of crazy ass guy stuff through the years, some of which may or may not have been illegal.
Hubby’s eyes glaze over if I say the words accessorize, duvet, or exfoliate. When we registered for wedding gifts, I remember him slowly meandering toward the electronics department to catch up on NFL football scores while I lovingly gazed at stemware and fine bone china.
Tonight we’re going out with one of my best college guy friends who is flying into town to visit his little sister and her boyfriend. My friend also happens to be gay. We worked together in college as co-editors of the entertainment section of our college newspaper. Our friendship endured me having a hissy fit on deadline one night and me telling him to go to hell. Now that is friendship!
I know hubby won’t order any flirtinis or bust a move on the dance floor (dating myself there, aren’t I) or spend more than 1.2 seconds deciding what to wear tonight, but I know he can hang out with the best of gay men and not feel uncomfortable.
Now, I’ve just got to figure out what I’m going to wear.