My Kind of Perfect

This weekend marked my two year anniversary with Exchange Student. And frankly, not a lot has changed since we first met. He is literally the best husband ever invented and I continue to be a less than desirable life partner.

Early Sunday morning I woke up to the sound of the front door slamming. After working six day weeks for the last month he snuck out early to get me the eleven, very well thought-out gifts he'd been planning on for the last year. I however laid in bed sleeping off my bad choices and the previous day’s 14 hour drinking session.

Lying face down in my pillow, I couldn't even gather the strength to turn my head to the side for a breath. I felt, and more importantly, smelled like a dead person. I laid there for a minute trying to figure out if I'd peed the bed. Unable to decide, I fell back to sleep.

I woke up to him pouring coffee in my mouth. He propped me up, fed me breakfast in bed and handed me, one-by-one, all the presents he’d picked out. I kissed him with my butt hole breath and then watched as he sat there..wantingly... Where were his presents? Surely I had them hidden in the closet or in my trunk since I hadn't bothered to get my ass out of bed this morning. 

Well that's a funny story, I told him and explained the jam packed schedule I had the previous day and that I'd had every intention of getting his gifts but events beyond my control prohibited me from doing so, namely 19 bottomless mason jars of Jeremiah Weed ice tea lemonades.   

"Not even a card? You don't even have a card for me". 

"Cards are for taints and besides what did you want me to do? 
Drink and drive!!!!!??"
"Just pull yourself together and meet me in the car." 

I slid out of bed, swished some toothpaste around in my mouth and threw on a tank top. I wiped the crusted mascara from my cheek, belched up some liquid heart burn and flew out the door. On my way to the car I debated how mad - on a scale of one to ten – he’d be if we pit stopped for a pitcher of Blood Mary's on the way to the movie theater. His people INVENTED hair of the dog and I needed one badly. Upon reaching the car door and seeing his I'm-annoyed-but-don't-want-to-ruin-this-day-so-I’m-smiling-instead-face I decided to put my boozy requests on the back burner. Ten. Ten for sure. 

Oh but good. Now I had to sit in the car for 40 damn minutes while he drove the whole three miles to our neighborhood theater. Good thing we're in no hurry. For anything. For the rest of time. 

But because CLEARLY I was in no position to say anything, I instead pointed out how lucky I was to be married to such a safe, overly attentive to the speed limit, prudent driver. For the rest of the road trip, I calculated how much faster I'd arrive at our destination if I’d just decided to Rollerblade. But realizing I would have to first borrow a pair from the gayest person I knew, and that my sister was out of town - I scratched that idea.

"We're here. Get out" 

Lots of people were out celebrating our anniversary ‘cause the movie theater was packed with a crowd gathering around the corner. It was in line with these fellow movie go-ers that he turned around to face me and noticed the two GIANT black arrows drawn with permanent marker across my chest pointing directly to my fun bags.

"Oh Jesus Christ God for FUCKS sake ERIN. This isn't funny, you're such a hooker. What in the FUCK happened last night?"

I looked down and immediately regretted my choice in tops. I was in the middle of explaining exactly what these mapping coordinates were all about when he told me to just go get a seat while he got the tickets and to quit laughing cause I wasn't funny. I headed inside and through the door I heard:

"And no one here thinks you're funny either!!!!!!!" Shouting after me. 

The crowd that had gathered quickly looked up at the ceiling and/or checked their idle cell phones.

During the movie I leaned over and whispered:

"I love you sugar balls"

"I love you too. Very much. Now stop being a cunt and watch the movie. "