I’m lunching at the office today and trying to distance myself from work stuff a little by doing something else, something “different.” So, what do I do? I write a blog post (that’s right, take a break from writing by simply writing something else) when I could be staring dumbly at the ceiling and counting the tiles in a mind-numbing state. Clearly, I have problems.
Anyway, I tell you this because I have a little container of blueberries next to me. I snarf down two or three every couple of minutes,and wow they’re great. I buy pounds (yes, pounds) of blueberries now because MW2 loves them; he eats them like candy. In fact, when he reads this, I’m sure he’ll remember that there are a couple more containers waiting for him in the fridge–they’re on that little half-shelf behind the tall stuff, babe!
So anyway, the first time I came home from Spouts with a ton of blueberries (not a literal ton, but you’d think it was that much). As I’m unpacking things, MW2 sees the berries and makes a comment about them, and it was clear that he was happy. He grew up in NH after all, where blueberries apparently grow like weeds and you can get them for longer periods of time than can be had here in Tejas.
“I got them for you,” I say with a shrug. It wasn’t a big deal and it would make him happy.
“Yeah. You got blueberry ice cream at the ice cream shop last night, so I figured you’d like some.”
He gave me a big ol’ smackeroo and we shared one of the containers right then and there, right out of the box.
I have never been to sort to cuddle with someone on the couch. Mainly, this is because every man I’ve ever been with hasn’t cuddled with me so much as lain on top of me so as to either make half of my body go numb, or to make it impossible to breathe. Suffocation is not fun.
MW2 loves to snuggle. And I love to snuggle with him. He has a habit of stretching out on the couch and laying with his head in my lap. We’ve spent hours in this position; I play with his hair and we talk and laugh. Those are some of my favorite moments.
In bed, he will wrap his arms around me and pull me close. There are even times when we fall asleep on the same pillow. If the position isn’t comfortable, it’s a non-issue. We move around so that we’re comfortable. My arm has never fallen asleep. We can snuggle while watching a movie and I can breathe the whole time.
Because he pays attention.
On Saturday, we were sitting at the bar over at The L (not to be confused with The H). We were chatting with our friend, C. She was telling us about how great her boyfriend is in the kitchen–it turns out he’s a wonderful cook. Of course, I mention MW2′s mad culinary skills and about how great it is to not have to be the only person cooking all the time.
He chimes in: “She buys such interesting things and leaves them in the fridge–all kinds of stuff that I wouldn’t think about getting at the store,” he says. “And she buys me blueberries.”