Love Is Blind

If love is really blind, at what point do the blinders come off? I remember a time—not that long ago—when Tom would buy me terrific, thoughtful gifts that displayed his romantic side. He would give me jewelry and sexy lingerie for my birthdays, anniversaries, and other special occasions. Besides the thoughtful gifts he always would take me to a nice restaurant for a quiet, romantic, candle-lit dinner. The restaurants were unique, with fireplaces, scenic views, and patios where we would watch the sun set.
Now my special gifts and romantic dinners are replaced by gifts for his convenience. For our anniversary, he gave me a meat grinder so I can grind up bologna and make him sandwich spread for his sandwiches. He gave me a self-propelled lawn mower so I would stop complaining about pushing the mower while he golfed. One anniversary he gave me a necklace that actually turned my neck green! The anniversary gift I shall always treasure is the old telephone pole insulators that he found discarded in a field. For many birthdays he gave me grocery bags full of zucchini, peppers, tomatoes, and corn that were the overflow from the gardens of his friends from work. I am so lucky to have been born at harvest time! One Christmas he gave me a centerpiece from his work’s Christmas party. He was one of the last to leave the party. The clean-up crew asked him if he wanted the centerpiece since they were just going to throw the decorations away. When he came home he said, “Merry Christmas” and handed me the centerpiece. Last Christmas he gave me a pocket calendar from the credit union. Other gifts that he has given me include deer meat, canned peppers, and ten pounds of nuts. The big problem with these gifts is that I hate deer meat and canned peppers—and he ate all of the nuts!
Whenever I ask Tom if he loves me, he zaps me with a little Lally Logic sarcasm, “I’m here, ain’t I?” At weddings or parties where there is dancing, his favorite thing to say to me is, “Do you want to dance?” I always say, “Okay.” Then he says, “Go ahead,” and laughs obnoxiously. I ask Tom, “Why don’t you spend more time with me?” He says, “You don’t play golf or do any of the things I like to do.”
I never understood why some couples who had been married for a while ended up sleeping in separate beds. However, now I am beginning to understand why they sleep in separate beds, rooms, houses, towns, states, countries, and even different continents.