I put on a brand new dress.
Sprinkled some powder across my nose and glossed my lips. I ran my fingers through my hair making it worse than before and decided I didn’t care.
My loving husband took my grumpy ass out to dinner.
We ordered a bottle of chardonnay. I love a good, dry chard. Adele crooned her compellingly anguished voice over the stereo, “someone like you, I wish nothing but the best for you two, don’t forget me I beg…”
That’s a trigger song for me though my husband doesn’t know. I focused on controlled natural breaths, focusing on the people and the taste of the wine, concentrating on the sign indicating where the restrooms were. I was ok. I think it’s ok to plan your exit strategy and it’s a celebration when you don’t need to use it.
The funny thing is, my husband IS the ‘someone like you’ except BETTER. My husband is the ‘HA, see what you missed out on?’ And not in a cocky way at all. More like, THIS is what love is. We were wrong, we were so wrong back then!
And the song ended. It didn’t even matter, it was three and a half minutes of our dinner.