I thought it was love.
The other night, Dave and I stopped at a pizza place to grab a quick meal before a meeting. I took several bites of my pizza, then stopped.
“Yuck. This is terrible,” I said as I dropped what was unimpressively serving as dinner on my plate.
Dave looked stricken. “Is it that bad?” he asked.
“It’s really awful. It tastes like a frozen pizza with a pound of packaged cheese plopped on top.”
“Here, have half of my sandwich,” my husband offered, quickly cutting his cheese steak and placing it on my plate.
“Oh, that’s sweet. Thanks, honey,” I said, taking a bite and thinking about how lucky I was to have a husband so concerned with my well being that he would offer me the food from his own plate. Unfortunately, the cheese steak wasn’t much better than the pizza and after a second taste, I put the sandwich down.
“What’s wrong?” Dave asked.
“Um, I’m not too crazy about this, either,” I muttered.
Dave looked around, searching for a menu. “Just hold on, I’ll get you something else,” he said, with what sounded like rising panic.
“It’s not a big deal. I’m fine.”
“No, no,” Dave answered, “we’ll get something else. If you don’t want anything here, we’ll get you some cookies at that place across the street.”
“Dave, really, I’m okay. I appreciate you trying to take care of me, but I’ll survive. Why are you getting so hysterical?” I asked.
“Well…uh…it’s just that I know how you get when you’re hungry.”
I stared. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I said.
“Now don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a little scary when you haven’t been fed and watered in a while.”
“What do you mean, ‘scary’?” I asked.
“You get a little touchy when you’re hungry. Like right now, you kind of look like you could shoot sparks out of your eyes,” he added.
“That might have more to do with you at the moment than my stomach,” I said.
“You have to admit, you, hungry, is not good for anyone. You’re not happy. And when you’re not happy, the rest of us aren’t happy. That’s why I always try and factor food into any of our outings that are going to last for more than a few hours,” Dave explained.
“Geez, I didn’t realize I was that much of an ogre,” I sulked. “So is that why you always ask me if I’m hungry, because you’re scared? I thought it was because you love me.”
“I do love you. But I’m also a little scared. Now why don’t we go and get some of those cookies before we go to the meeting?”
Mmmmm. Cookies. Ten minutes later, I was double fisting a chocolate chip in one hand and a peanut butter cookie in the other. “These are delicious,” I mumbled, mouth full.
“I thought you’d like them,” Dave answered, smiling.
Love. Fear. It really doesn’t matter. The man knows how to keep me happy. And full. You can’t ask for more than that.
What’s your man’s motivation for taking care of you? Click “comments” below and share!