My Romantic Gesture That Didn’t Go According To Plan
I take you into a romantic and intimate moment of my marriage this week.
A chance to show my husband how well I know him.
How much I love him.
A few days ago, I was walking back from the grocery store.
Along this path between the store and our house.
A path where Husband likes to go running.
As I carried the groceries, I looked down the way and spotted a single runner.
Husband!
Of course, I’d know his silhouette anywhere.
And that stride!
That unique way he kicks his knees up and pumps his arms for those final 200 yards.
He was running straight at me.
Which was when I got the brilliant idea.
To throw away any inhibition.
About how excited I was to see him.
After all,
It was just he and I on this path.
I started jumping up and down.
“Take it to another level!” I coached myself.
I added flailing my arms jumping jack style, grocery bags swinging back and forth from my shoulders.
How about that for romantic?
For a full-on demonstration of crazy love?
That was the idea anyway.
You might see where this story is heading?
For as the man I was so sure was Husband ran faster and got closer, as I was making a total spectacle of myself,
A sliver of doubt crept into my increasingly unsure mind.
“Uh, that might not be Husband,” I considered, mid-jumping jack.
“Nah, has to be him,” I assured myself.
As I didn’t want to think of the alternative.
And yet,
I had to start considering this,
Seriously.
Because as the runner so-sure-to-be-Husband got closer and closer, it became clear.
He was not.
A touch stockier.
Similar, yes.
Him?
Uh, no.
It’s possible you’ve have been here, too, Dear Reader?
Maybe not flailing your arms, grocery bags swinging toward a stranger on a running path.
But in the middle of what appeared to be a good idea from afar,
Yet, turned out to be far from a good idea.
That unfortunate perm in the 80’s?
That political post on Facebook?
A marriage or three?
There’s only one option when charging forward becomes an unquestionable mistake.
Duck and own.
For me, that meant ducking into bushes.
I kid you not.
I ducked and watched as one very confused man ran by.
I crawled back to our house.
There was Husband sitting on the couch.
“You’re home,” I said surprised.
“Yep. Finished my run 10 minutes ago. Had a personal record. You should’ve seen me,” he said.
“Oh, you have no idea how true that is,” I replied.
Which was my cue to own my story.
Husband laughed, shook his head.
Turns out it’s he who knows me.
Apparently, loves me.
Knows it won’t be the last time I embarrass myself.
I hope not yours, either.
Let’s keep flailing arms, swinging groceries.
All in the name of taking a chance.
Of showing love.
Hopefully, with a well-placed bush close by.
Y’know,
Just in case.
(((Please catch my column each week in The Atlanta Journal Constitution, The Dayton Daily News and other Cox Newspapers across the country.)))
And if you enjoy this column about the wackiness of marriage you might enjoy my book,
