I was finally able to get a few hours off of work. Just enough that Big Daddy & I could make dinner for two, together. And then to watch a movie I have been -begging- him to watch with me, for months.
P.S. I Love You.
He's not much for chick flicks. Thus, the necessary begging. And a possible promise of my singing (and humming the instrumental sections) all 985,623 minutes of 'Stairway To Heaven' on his tool of menace.
*rubs chapstick onto her lips before continuing with this post*
He ended up really liking the movie. As do I. You know a movie is super good when tears burn your eyes like the smoke from a Marlboro, when your nose bubbles snot and your throat clogs with tears to the point that you suck a breath like a beached (whale) really cute, skinny fish.
Maybe that's why men don't want to watch them with us. -I have had an epiphany!- They know we will want some sweet lovin' when it's over and during the whole movie, they are looking over at us, tears, snot, hiccuped sobs, blotchy faces full of adoration as we slobber out how we love him just like Kate loves Leo.
Of course I would share the slab of ice floating in the frozen sea, Big Daddy! And when you (are shoved) fell off the side, just like you do our bed, because there's only room for Phat Mama, my 'heart might go on' but I would be inconsolable for a good while. At least until I got the insurance check from the dickheads that said Titanic couldn't sink.
Anyway. Yes, my epiphany is that men may not want to chick flick with their beloved woman because she is giving him lovestruck, teary 'fuck me' eyes while snot is rolling from her nose to her trembling lower lip.
So we were watching P.S. I Love You & I sat there thinking to myself - God, please let me go first (like in 40 years or so - no rush, really) because I could not bear to live without him. He is every best moment of my life.
*makes moo eyes at Big Daddy & snuffles up dripping snot - I'm in the mood, lets make out.*
...and in the end
4 years ago