Yesterday morning, Scott went out for coffee, and came back with a pot of tulips and a card thanking me for carrying our baby. This guy always knows how to bring meaning to a Hallmark Holiday.
Back when I was a freshman in college, professing my love for my long-distance boyfriend and swearing up and down that I was going to marry the guy, pretty much everyone thought I was crazy and/or pathetic, and hanging on to something that I should have let go of when I stepped on that TWA flight headed for NY. It wasn’t easy braving four years of long distance (and a couple of pretty brutal breakups) at that age. And returning to L.A., readjusting to life together after so long apart wasn’t easy either. But after a decade together, and a year and a half of marriage, I can say with unwavering confidence that this guy was worth it.
It’s a weird thing, having grown up together as a couple – we’ll often refer to our relationship in four phases. We’ve come a long way together, learned how to fight, how to laugh at each other, how to deal with each other’s nonsense, and how to support each other. Scott can make me laugh in a way that no one else ever could, and he can make me feel better about something that’s been plaguing me for weeks with a single sentence. His dry sense of humor is unparalleled in my book – sometimes if you blink you’ll miss it, but his running commentary on the world makes it a brighter (and more hilarious) place to live in. And he never gets mad when I steal his gems and stick them in a screenplay.
When we found out we were expecting, I was the one who freaked out, giving in to the panic, and stress, and what if’s that come with impending parenthood, but Scott just started grinning, and he still hasn’t stopped. He brings me tulips on every occasion, and somehow I’m surprised every time. He works his ass off every day so that I can continue to pursue my goals, and he puts up with my never ending inner pendulum of mania and self-doubt in the process. He’s never threatened to leave me for sniffing his armpits when he’s not paying attention, which I do more than I’d like to admit. This guy smells like roses to me, even when he doesn’t.
He puts up with all of my bad TV addictions, and all he asks in return is that I scratch his back when he can’t reach, and that he get free reign of the remote on Sunday Night so he can watch cartoons (well, and the occasional Dodger game – but I don’t mind those.) When we first started dating, he let me bleach his hair to match mine. He shares my enthusiasm for decorating, and house hunting, and will unabashedly talk about design…no matter how much he gets mocked for it. He lets me be the drummer in Rock Band, even though that’s really his thing. When I was throwing up all day (for three months) he’d bring me home chicken noodle soup from Jerry’s Deli, separate the chicken (so as not to disturb the noodles,) and blend it into the broth with an immersion blender so the babe and I could still get enough protein.
This guy is so awesome, and he doesn’t even know it.
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