Tuesday, August 20, 2013

As Time Goes By, Seriously?

Groucho Marx
When did I become so serious?  I mean seriously? This is ridiculous.  I started posing this question after my sister commented that she couldn't open a Facebook posting my husband had sent for our 18th Anniversary yesterday. Truth be told (and sweetheart I apologize) for a brief moment I gave a sigh of relief.

My husband, Eric has always been a romantic. Years ago, while we were dating and leading up to the final twelve days of Christmas, he gave me a gift every day.  Each gift increased in value until December 25th when - in front of his entire immediate family and relatives - there was a huge box waiting for me under the Potts' tree.  It didn't stop there.  The process continued with boxes wrapped inside boxes until eventually I found a beautiful ruby and diamond ring (no, not an engagement ring, that came later).  Still, I was overwhelmed by the attention leaving the room in tears after his father abruptly asked, "Well Bri, do you like it?"

Oh my goodness, I do believe I just heard the entire female population give an virtual gasp of admiration for my husband.  Yes, I have a "keeper" and no, I won't share him.  He's all mine ladies.

Public displays of affection startle me and yet I have no problem whatsoever getting up on stage and making a complete ass out of myself while attempting to be a stand-up comedian.  What's this all about?  I have no idea.  Just the other day, a song came on the radio which struck me as being silly so I did what comes naturally to me; I wore my Groucho Marx glasses bouncing to the goofy beat.  Did I care what other drivers thought of me?  Not at all.  Life is too short and besides, I'm guessing I probably made a few folks giggle along the way.

So why am I worried about strangers seeing a clandestine butt grab in a parking lot, family members being watching my husband snuggling me on a sofa, or friends exposed to the depth of Eric's love for me on Facebook?  I only have this life to live.  When he kissed me goodbye for work and ran out the door this morning, I suddenly felt the need to chase after him like he did for me a long, long time ago.

Remember that day Eric?  I left a letter on your car?  I finally told you how I felt.  We missed one another by moments.  As I was driving away, I looked in my mirror, and saw a white sports car racing at speeds that were well beyond illegal.  Somehow you managed to pull up beside me, roll down your window, and yell, "I love you too, Breezy!"  My heart fluttered, the light turned green, and you sped away.  We were married eight months later.

Is this blog a public display of affection?  Well damn, I suppose it is.  I adore you, Potsie.