John and I are opposites. Books have been written about the differences between men and women, but no matter what I read, I'll never understand him or how it is that we work so well together; it's a mystery.
Case in point: John's birthday.
John turned 40 this week. I've been talking about this big day for over a year. Come to think of it, I don't believe he had an opportunity to enjoy being 39 because I was so incredibly focused on the upcoming landmark birthday.
The plans I tossed out varied at all levels - romantic weekend, quiet dinner with family and friends, big bash of a day riding go karts or screaming through a zip line tour of a local cavern, or cheering on a friend at a nearby body building competition and joining her and her husband for a meal and drinks afterward. Whatever I offered was met with a shrug, a "maybe" or some other nonchalant, non-committed answer. Friends would ask me about what I had planned, but I had no answer.
Oh yes, that's right. I'm the wife. I'm the one that plans these things. Not because it's some societal duty, but because, between the two of us, I lean more towards planning. I thrive more in social environments. It's only to be expected that I would have something up my sleeve, or at least be in the know.
Not only was this a landmark birthday because it was John's first step into his 40's, but it was his first married birthday. It was a big deal to me to make sure that he had a good day. Possibly because I love birthdays. Your birthday is your special day; a day to get pampered and treated with love.
I don't know if John has a birthday philosophy, but he has never been super pumped about any of his birthdays. Perhaps it's my pestering about possible gift choices. Once we finish with Christmas, I ask him to start on his birthday list. He prefers to be left alone and let things drift by, unnoticed. To celebrate his birthday, he once told me, would mean a meal at a restaurant.
As it happened, John's car had been misbehaving on Sunday and the first day Dan, his friend/mechanic/former roommate, could come by and make a diagnosis was John's birthday. We were limited with time, could not coordinate with friends, and I was feeling pretty lousy with allergies. A long fancy dinner was just not possible, so we went and had burgers at Habit.
A year of mental planning and we had burgers. And John was happy.
I don't get it. That wouldn't be enough for me, but somehow he's pleased. Oh, the man is a mystery. How I do love him.
1 comment:
That's definitely a guy thing. We like birthdays, but guys who get all excited about their own birthdays are kind of drama queens, don't you think? As we turn into adult males, we tend to embrace that pseudo-humility where we like attention, but we don't want to make it seem like we like attention. If that makes sense.
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