...and faints dead away when she backs into the door knob.
My ex-wife and I always tried to make any significant day special for each other. Just look at these shining examples:
- Our first Christmas together, I bought her a necklace, tennis bracelet, about $400 worth of clothes, a large TV, hi-fi VCR (this was '94, smart-asses), expensive perfume, an entertainment center, and new dishes. She got me a set of screwdrivers from the dollar store and a Kmart sweater.
- On our first anniversary, I had to work 8+ hours so I sent her roses. She decided in return to treat me to a warm bed when I got home. I'm not sure which guy it was keeping my side of the bed warm; it didn't work anyways because she changed the sheets before I got back from work.
- On my 24th birthday, she greeted me at the door with our 10-month-old, whom she promptly handed to me saying only, "Feed her. I'm going out." She didn't return for almost 36 hours.
- The same year, on my parents' 35th anniversary, she got into a minor argument with my Mom, which she punctuated with "I f__king hate you. You're such a f__king BITCH!!" then storming out of their house, slamming the door behind her. I, of course, chased after her... she thought it was to take her side of the argument, so you can imagine the shock in her eyes when I told her if she ever spoke to my Mother like that again, I'd kill her with my bare hands... if my Dad didn't get to her first.
- My daughter's first birthday was very special! You see, even a house you've lived in for some time has a "new" feel when you come home to find it completely empty and your car gone. While finding out that your 183,000-mile '77 400 will hold your '72 Charger SE at nearly 140MPH for five-minute bursts while trying to find your wife would normally give you a warm, fuzzy sensation, the horrific rod knock after doing it for the third time is a real buzzkill.
- When we were trying to reconcile, I made her Valentine's Day extra-memorable by telling her I'd finally had it for good, and politely asking her to go f__k herself, rather than let every guy in Dickinson County do it for her.
- On our 2nd anniversary, I told her I was moving to Atlanta because it seemed like the nearest place where I wouldn't run into guys who knew my name because they'd nailed my wife (Atlanta is 1,100 miles away).
No, I'm actually not joking on any of those points or dates.
My point? Count your blessings. If his worst offense is cheating on you by sleeping with his brother, a rusted pair of 906 heads and a grimy A833, you've probably got it better than half the married people I know.
I hate to sound callous, but an anniversary is just another Tuesday (or whatever) to most men. It doesn't mean they don't love their women, it just means we're men. To us it's a fact, not an emotional event. We know better but we fail anyhow. As Tammy Wynette sang, "After all, he's just a man."
My advice is this: Make the most of your special day no matter where or how you spend it. I would think that just being together on that day, so many years since you made those vows before the priest/minister/rabbi/justice of the peace/hippie shaman/one-eyed lobster captain (or whomever performed your wedding) would be special enough.
By the way, after my successful hysterectomy--hey, men can lose a uterus too; it just involves lawyers rather than doctors--the only date I celebrate with gusto is September 9th... the date my divorce was finalized back in '96. :dance: