Showing posts with label marriage; expectations; opposites attract. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage; expectations; opposites attract. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

V-Day


I was at Target earlier this week and picked up a cool dark green purse for myself for Valentine's Day. Years ago I told myself I would never resort to shopping for presents for myself for holidays. I was certain the strength of Tim's and my love would manifest itself in thoughtful, romantic gifts year after year after year. The fact that he bought me a coupon organizer for grad school graduation should have tipped me off that something was amiss, but alas, I forged ahead with stars in my eyes.

When I showed Tim and Margaret the purse a few days ago, Tim was offended that I'd picked something out for myself. "I've already planned on ordering you something for Valentine's Day!" he said.

"Is it chocolate, jewelry, flowers, or this green purse?" I asked.

"No."

He whispered in Margaret's ear hoping to get her approval. I may have overheard something that sounded an awful lot like "wireless mouse" which IS something I 've been wanting, but that won't look quite as cute out and about as my new green purse.

Feel free to take a trip with me down memory lane to revisit Valentine's Day 2006-2008 with the Donaldson family. And a Happy Valentine's Day to you!

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Great Expectations



So I’m just wondering, did you marry “your type?” If you are married, did you have a preconceived notion of what kind of guy you would end up with or whom you gravitated toward during your dating years? If so, did you marry that kind of guy? How have your expectations been different from reality?

I always figured I would marry a frat guy type. Gregarious, with a slight beer gut, loads of stories, and the ability to throw me over his shoulder at will in a “get over yourself, Anna” kind of way. The kind of guy who would lean you up against the cinder block wall in the fraternity party room and slur with a little beer on his breath, “Man, you’re soooo hot!” Not sure where I got this from, but it’s just an image that stuck in my head.

Tom does not fit this mold. He is shy and reserved; he is proper and straight-laced. I outweigh him easily within a few short weeks of becoming pregnant, so there hasn't been a lot of throwing over the shoulder around here.

He is definitely not a frat boy. In fact, until we got involved in our church, he had just a few male friends, and he is content to spend a weekend at home rather than going out golfing our hanging with the boys. He does not curse, tell raunchy stories, and I don’t believe he’s ever uttered the word “hot”in the “smokin’ hot” sense in his life.

I remember when an ex-boyfriend visited me in graduate school and spent some time with Tom and me. Later, he proclaimed, “I just don’t think Tom is an ‘Anna Maiden Name’ kind of guy.” He even sent me the comic you see at the top of this blog post as some sort of illustration.

Puh-leeze! I mean, what was that about? I was in love with Tom! He was handsome, sweet, thoughtful, and extremely smart. Whatever the ex was trying to do totally backfired. Did this guy not realize that I have never NOT rooted for the underdog in my life, and he had just made Tom into an Underdog?

Didn’t he realize no one puts Baby, I mean Anna, in a corner?! A comic that criticized Tom? Ha. That guy might as well have gone out and bought the ring and booked the reception hall himself, because his insult sent me farther into Tom’s cute arms.

I think the ex did manage to peg that Tom and I are different. Sometimes those differences have been easy to navigate, sometimes more difficult. But even though Tom and I are opposites on the Myers-Briggs scale, and he may initially not have seemed like an “Anna Maiden Name” kind of guy, he’s the one I married, and after 18 years together, there are a lot of reasons why it works.

For one, there’s the whole introvert/extrovert thing. His quiet nature does not bother me. I realize now that I want to be the one with the loud, funny stories at parties, while he laughs along and is hopefully not too embarrassed .

I’m also a bit of a prude, so if anyone is going to be slightly risqué or raunchy in this family (by which I mean blogging about shooting one’s wad (of cash) or occasionally uttering the S-word) I’d prefer it to be me.

Also, Tom doesn’t schmooze, ever, so you are always getting the real deal. He might not be gregarious enough to be Pres of the IntraFraternity Council, but he is a loyal friend with great integrity. He is satisfied with our quiet life, and doesn’t care who knows whom, how much they make, or where they bought what. He also doesn’t get into gossip, which can be a bit of a bummer for me if I get in the mood, but it’s good not to have someone to feed off of.

Of course there are many reasons I love Tom, and certainly not just because he serves as a good foil for me. One of our old friends used to liken us to Dharma and Greg, which sort of implies I am a crystal-carrying ditz, but it does peg Tom as the mild-mannered type. I guess our friend just meant we complement each other well, and I believe that.

It also doesn’t hurt that he is H-O-T-T (lick finger, put it on your rear jeans pocket and insert sizzling sound here).

I could probably write a whole separate post for you on what I would suppose Tom’s “real type” is. I’ll take a quick stab at it here: a thin, doe-eyed, northerner with long, straight hair tucked under a baseball cap. Likes cooking, fine wine, the great outdoors, L.L. Bean and watching Planet Earth. Lives to cheer on her favorite sports teams and go to rock concerts. Prefers sex to sleep.

Good luck with that, Tom. Bloom where you’re planted, baby.