Sweet Baby Jesus… this man will be the death of my single life.
I’ve worked a week straight and I’m happily tired but paying bills left and right, filling up the refrigerator AND!!!! my sweet mama hired someone to build me the garden fence to end all fences. It’s spectacular.
Life is beautiful- and my co-dependent nature has been unleashed. He texts me consistently. He compliments me constantly. He spoils me fucking rotten with genuine goodness.
My lovely daughter has been carving words into rocks all week. My mom loaned her a Dremel, and there are cute little love note rocks all over my house. She’s a crafty little off-shoot of me, and she’s on a mission to carve everything in sight. My dear boyfriend, who I’ve taken to referring to as Superman… showed up with the finest Dremel money can buy… complete with the fine detail extension thingy. He walked in smiling, begging me to not be mad.
S- Don’t be mad. She needs it.
J- Don’t spoil the baby. You don’t have to buy her anything, she’s going to like you just fine, because you’re a really good person. You don’t have to buy her a Dremel.
S- I’m not spoiling her, I’m encouraging her creativity.
The look on her face was priceless. Wide eyes. Silence. She walked over and hugged him.
R- Oh. My. WORD. Thank you… can I open it?
He opens it and sets her up and she’s a carving dynamo- laughing over the variable speed and rejoicing in her endless supply of diamond tips. He’s happy and smiling and kisses me goodbye, telling me… yet again.
S- You’re beautiful when you smile, and if I can make that happen all the time it only benefits me.
Yeah… he’s that guy. The one armed with nice words that he actually means. Finally my penchant for a sweet talker has landed me in heaven instead of hot water. He takes out the trash. He wants to fix my car. He helps the guys building my fence. This man is the best person I’ve ever met.
I had to work again and he offered to hang out with my daughter, but it’s still early on and she’s in carving bliss… so he goes and asks if it’s ok if he comes over a little before I get off work. He has a surprise for me.
I went to work, grinning at my happy reflection and embracing my new-found girlfriendness. I love being attached. I thrive in domestic partnership. I’m happiest when I have someone to care about- and he’s the most worthy man I’ve ever met.
Work is another slice of heaven. Happy customers and co-workers I adore. Compliments from the chef on my efforts as a server. I couldn’t love a job more if I were making six figures. Every day that I go to work, I pinch myself. At the old place I worked, if you needed help or asked for it, it was held against you as a personal failure. My boss was not helpful, regardless of the fact I was earning HIM money. He couldn’t be troubled to pause from texting to get out of your way, let alone help. He loves to stand next to you while you’re putting an order in and question you on all the tables in the room, without knowing if they’re your table or finished or whatever. It was a fucking nightmare. My new boss? Loves to help. They support us all wholeheartedly without question, and offer help whenever it gets busy or we get several tables at once.
I work with a smile on my face because I’m supporting a business that supports me… and what a difference it makes. I’m happy going to work. I don’t dread working with either of my bosses. They want to buy vegetables from me, because they’re smart and want to provide their customers with the best.
The biggest shock? My unemployment was denied from my old job because my SISTER told them I called my manager a cunt.
You know what? She is a cunt. That’s the gospel and they’re all full of shit if they don’t admit to saying and feeling the exact same way. To hear from the lady at unemployment that my SISTER was the one who took food out of a house her niece lives in? Deal breaker. I have nothing for her but contempt- and she can enjoy every suffering second of working with that cunt for the rest of time for all I care. She’s not welcome in our lives, and I can guarantee it’s a huge loss on her part. We’re thriving… while she’s still under the thumb of Miss Cunt Bag. More power to ya, sis- enjoy.
Me? I go to work looking lovely and clean. Dressed in black and surrounded by friends. Working with a group of people who are savvy professionals who know what management is. Blissed out while serving the best food in town. Amen.
I worked a slow shift last night, and counted the seconds until it was over purely because my dear Superman was cooking up some sort of surprise and the curiosity was killing me. I rushed home, excited to sink into the haven of the man I adore.
I drove in and the house was dark… and it was nearly 11 so I figured he may have fallen asleep.
Nope.
I opened the door and walked in to rose petals. I had to laugh a little… and followed the path to my room… where he’d recreated American Beauty on my bed. Thousands of pink petals (my favorite) candles burning everywhere and my sweet Superman… nearly asleep on my bed.
My God in heaven… I was speechless.
He grinned at me, sleepy quiet and happy to see me.
S- It seemed like a good idea but it was kinda cheesy after it was all said and done.
It’s not cheesy… it’s perfect. He’s amazing. I’m walking in from my first week at a new job that I love more than any job I’ve ever had, to the most amazing boyfriend I’ve ever heard of… and best of all?
He’s mine. ♥
I look back over the last month, in losing people I thought were my friends, in losing my closest sister, and a job I loathed working for people who couldn’t give a shit less about firing a single mom for taking dinner home and calling a spade a spade. I look at the douche bags who’ve used me to mop the floor and the stupid boys who would dare to fuck with the wordy princess. Nathan, Thomas… and good old James… I’ve really met my quota, and I’ve really offered my love to the wrong men.
But.
I found my Superman…. and I appreciate him like he deserves. I appreciate how amazing he is because I know what the other side of the coin looks like all too well. It’s one of those good old fashioned love stories… where the nice girl meets the nice guy and they live happily ever after.
Excuse my tiara… but when the perfect man insists you be treated like the princess you always wanted to be?
You smile, thank him graciously… and blow his damn mind with diamonds in your hair.
Forgive my slacking in blog-land… but I’m busy being the happiest I’ve ever been.