Love is a Battlefield

I was waiting in line a few days ago in the drug store and watched a young man, in his twenties, carry a huge teddy bear up to the counter.  The man was very cute with good hair and a good outfit.  He had two friends with him and as he took out his wallet to pay – he asked his friends to confirm that he was making a good purchase.

“You think she will like this right?” he asked them and they nodded their approval.

I was floored that this girl had him so wrapped that he was thinking about how to make her happy a full 5 days before Valentine’s Day! Also, he was shopping with his friends with blatant disregard for if they would think he was cool or not.

mark wahlberg hotel 120912
“Hi…, if she doesn’t like it…..I will.”

But then I thought, Mr. Gaga must have done this before.  I tried to think.

We love each other – it’s just that our priorities have changed.

If Mr. Gaga gave me a teddy bear now – all I would think of was that it was a germ collecting dust filled item that I would have to donate to a needy child at a hospital without him noticing.

Angelina Jolie arrived back in Los Angeles with giant teddy bears
“Um, yeah – can you throw this fucking thing in the dumpster?”


I thought back to when we were young and in love. What did Mr. Gaga do to show me he loved me?

Well he would buy me a drink at the bar.  We were poor young college students and if he thought of me enough to get me a draft beer at our local watering hole that would signify true love.

Now the only beverage I want him to provide is coffee in the morning.  He wakes up before me and his job is to make the coffee and be sure that it is hot and ready for me when I wake up in the morning with our two beastly children that need breakfast and snacks and lunch for school, and a normal outfit and hair that’s combed and groomed and permission slips that are signed and snow pants that are packed. It’s the very least he can do.

How else did he show me love? How did I get swept away into a lifetime of being a suburban mother in Goopville who empties the dishwasher twice a day and cares for two boys who don’t listen to me   of love and happiness??

He would tell me I was hot.  He would say it aloud and also I could tell with his eyes.  And also when I left the bar with another boy  grinded a boy on the dance floor,  wore my “break-up shirt”  when I did something to peak his interest – he would get jealous.

Here I am with my college friends trying to get Mr. Gaga’s attention…

Well, it’s different now.  I don’t think he would ever be jealous anymore.  Let’s face it.  I have pushed two huge ten-pounders out of my private area.  I have stretch marks.  I have breast fed his children and my tits are long loose sacks of despair.

But just last night – I came home from work and said I had to go upstairs and add makeup to my tired face.  He said “You don’t need more makeup…you look hot.”

How much more can a girl ask for?? I say “girl” loosely – because clearly that ship has sailed, but just to have a little confirmation that my husband still finds me mildly attractive is enough.

And then there’s the whole flower situtation.  Remember the days when getting that flower meant everything?  I remember in highschool and college a boy could order a flower-gram for his sweetheart.  As a female, this was possibly the most stressful and heart-stopping fundraiser one could ever live through.  Students could order a flower to be delivered to their sweetheart on Valentine’s Day….or not.

Living through that day was a horror show.  You just spent the whole day praying that anyone – even the biggest nerd in the world would send you a flower…..  Nobody wanted to be that loser that went home without a pink carnation or rose.

In college, my entire group of friends were single our freshman year.  We waited patiently for flower deliveries that never came.  Finally, our one friend that had a boyfriend, bless his heart, took pity on the group of us, and sent us all valentine-grams.

Here we are – pretending that lots of people love us.

And there was always the groping.  When you are young in love you need and want that.  That hot, sexy, passionate making out session at the drop of a hat….

But now….

I just don’t have the time for that sort of thing…

Sometimes when I am cooking dinner – Mr. Gaga will come up behind me and try to hug me or stick his hand down the back of my pants to touch my butt.  While this is cute and nice – I am in the midst of trying to fry cutlets for my little babies and I will swat him away distractedly.  I suppose I should be happy that he still wants a piece of this…

There he is – looking at me lovingly while I ignore him and think about how in two hours he and the children will go to bed…..


And then of course there’s the bed.  A place that used to be filled with snuggles and love.  I mean it still can be – if we choose.  But we are just so fucking tired and old and cold.

I just want a warm blanket and a pillow to rest my weary head on.  Knowing that the love of my life is beside me – with possibly a huge pillow in between our heads because we snore and need space, is just perfect for us.

Last night, after a long night Mr. Gaga fell asleep on the couch.  I totally tried really hard to wake him up  yelled in his ear and shook him  threw a cold glass of water in his face

ran for my life up to the bed and spread out luxuriously with 50 pillows.

i miss my husband
I missed him desperately.

I mean, I love my husband, but there’s just nothing better than a whole bed to yourself filled with pillows.

And yet, this morning after my treachery and even though he probably had a stiff neck from the couch – he woke up before me and made me my favorite breakfast.  It’s not just that it was there waiting for me – but my favorite breakfast is a bagel with cream cheese and salmon and capers.  The fact that he went to buy this and prepare it for me says “Even though you are fat and shouldn’t eat carbs, I love you and I think you deserve a bagel.”

That to me, is better than a rose or a snuggle or a draft beer.

Yes, I said it.

Carbs are love.

I don’t want to brag – but also on the side of my bagel were little heart-shaped pancakes…

So basically carbs with a side of carbs…

I am a lucky girl.

And today as luck would have it – Valentine’s Day fell on a Sunday before a holiday weekend.  So obviously this means the night would be spent drinking wine and eating oysters   gazing into each other eyes in front of the fire


my husband is my true love and soul mate so he knows enough…

to go to bed…

while I do my blog.






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