Romance, Romance

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Ricky and I will celebrate our eighth wedding anniversary next week. For the most part, we have a good relationship. Sure we have our little tiffs, but we rarely fight-fight. But like a lot of couples, we can get pretty wrapped up in the day to day business of life and let romance go out the window.

We were talking about that recently and I said to Ricky, “I want you to treat me like your girlfriend, not your wife.” At this point Ricky made some typical man remark about sex (sorry, Mom!), we both laughed, and the conversation was dropped.

But the next day I received a phone call from our doorman that I had a delivery. As I wasn’t expecting anything I asked what it was. “It’s from a florist.”

A florist? Well, send him up!

Ricky WAS listening last night. He sent me flowers. How sweet!

Little Ricky was in the middle of a nap and I didn’t want the doorbell to wake him so I floated to the door to await my flowers. As soon as I saw the delivery man I flung open the door and came face to face with …

An edible arrangement.

(You know those fruit baskets that are made to look like floral bouquets?)

An odd choice, I thought, not terribly romantic, but we’ll give Ricky credit for the thought.

And then the delivery man said “Lily?”

Ummm, no, Lucy.

Is this apartment ###?

Yep, but I’m Lucy, not Lily.

The delivery guy looked pretty stumped at this point so I mentioned that Lucy and Lily might get mixed up over the phone so why don’t we see who the basket was from.

“Dear Lily, Get well soon. Love, John.”

Okay, I’m not Lily, I’m not sick and I don’t know a John that would send me fruit. Three strikes.

Off the delivery man went and I was left feeling like an idiot.

One, I got super-excited over flowers when I didn’t even know for sure if they were flowers.

Two, I yanked open the door before the man could even ring the doorbell. Yes, I was trying to keep him from waking the baby, but he didn’t know that. He was probably thinking “poor, sad woman.”

Three, the arrangement wasn’t even for me! (Making the eager yanking open of the door even more pathetic!)

When Ricky got home from work that night, I told him my sad little story. Did he express empathy at my embarrassment? Did he apologize for not actually sending me flowers (or a fruit basket?)


He laughed.

The honeymoon is definitely over.


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