I am the man

Please note, I am not the man as in "I am the MAN".
I am the man as in "yes, yes it is true." (sigh) "I am the man."

Did I confess to you that on our anniversary we said to one another "no presents." And we both followed the rules and didn't get each other presents. But Scully painstakingly cut out pictures of Iowa wildflowers and pasted them on to a handmade card that read, "until I can go outside and pick these for you for real" It also had little drawings of our family and future family (inshallah.)

And what did I do for her? I smiled. I thanked her. I gave her a kiss. And I told everyone about the wonderful card she'd made for me.

And later that night she mentioned that she really likes getting cards. . . or at least something. Even a can of soda with a "happy anniversary!" would have been nice. And I apologized for being an oaf and promised to do better and she said not to worry. She'd happily accept a belated anniversary gift.

So I tuck this piece of information away, fantasizing about the "absolutely perfect" thing to do for a belated anniversary gift which (of course) never materializes.

Fast forward to a few days ago.
Scully is setting out our altar for day of the dead. As she is doing this she reminds me that Nov. 1st is All Saints Day.

All Saints Day is her saints day. I can't tell you why because that would reveal too much about her secret identity. Just take my word for it & don't go nosing around asking any Latinos.

And yesterday, another reminder: tomorrow is All Saints Day.

Please know that in the past (we have been together for 7 years) she has told me that all she wants is for me to acknowledge that it is her saint's day by saying "Happy Saints day, honey!"

And what do I do this morning? Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Shower. Get Khubz dressed. Complain about the mess in the kitchen from my kamikaze-style cooking the night before. Remind Scully that I will be unavailable in the afternoon if anything comes up for Khubz. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Kiss Khubz and Scully good-bye. Leave for my meeting.

(it gets worse)

Half-way through the day I send a text message, "Just wanting to say hi!"

Not, "Just wanting to say happy saints day!" or even "Wow. . . I blew it this a.m. Happy St's Day!"

And worse, I sent a message 'just saying hi' so it was pretty clear that I had a moment of opportunity.

I wasn't too busy. I had even been reminded. I am, simply, a douche or a schmuck or "the man."

My phone quickly beeped back with a message: No one remembered my saints day. :(

To prove that I am "the man" in the relationship I responded to her text message (sent in response to my "just hi") by freaking the fuck out and immediately deciding the way to fix my asshole-ism was to purchase some, um, say, FLOWERS for her.

Because that's what women everywhere have always said. Sure, he might be a total schmoe, inconsiderate and self-centered but at least he brought me flowers and a lame apology!

It's true. In my defense, another motivator was that I knew she wanted flowers for the altar.

And I clearly offer this up as a public apology. The best demonstration of how contrite I am is to simply say (sigh): It is true that sometimes femmes are the man. (additional sigh) I wish I didn't prove this fact quite so often.

What a putz I am.

p.s. At least I've improved at her birthday. It's Dec. 2nd and I used to spend her birthday crying because I couldn't budget to save my life and therefore I never had a birthday present for her on her birthday because that was always the same paycheck period that rent was due. So for a good 4 years she spent her birthday consoling me and letting me know that she didn't care about getting her birthday present two weeks late if only I would stop CRYING so we could at least enjoy the day together.