A free dinner is a free dinner.
Who cares if it comes from your mother or not.
side note about my mother: I am so mad at her right now. The other day we were talking about something (probably how Tom is a republican and I am just not sure yet to do with that information) and by we I mean my mother, Merry, and I, and she started talking about gay people. Except, she called one of them a "fag" and I nearly (note: totally) flipped my shit. I stood up, yelled at her to never use that word ever again, and how disgusted I was that she thought it was an acceptable term to use for anyone ever and then, get this, she laughed it off and kept talking. Fuck her.
But this year, I have plans. Pre-planned (because I am a whore for things like lists and plans and other obsessive compulsions) and pre-ordered and pre-paid for plans.
Tom and I will be going to a bed and breakfast like old people, sexing each other up, and then eating waffles in the morning. I'm thinking it will be hilarious when we get drunk and go swimming with the people who are all over 50 then have loud obnoxious kissing in the early parts of the morning since I don't have to work the next day and I tend to kiss loudly. Especially when drunk.
Last year on Valentines Day I actually wanted to do anything but be with David. That was nearing the point in our relationship where we began to hate each other and he didn't ever want to plan anything ever. He's so anti plans I have no idea how he ever gets anything done. Tom is lovely for not only liking my plans and wanting to participate in them, but also for making plans of his own for us.
Is it so wrong to be smitten with someone because of their ability to schedule things...?
Oh em gee! I just realized this is the first time I am giving you any sort of description of Tom whatsoever! Look at me go. I'm such a rebel. And really, I don't even have a cause.
I guess this is where I should tell you what I like about him. I will try to keep it PG.
He is Irish, and has the most insanely beautiful blue eyes. I realized it the other night when I was gazing into them in a moment of passion. They are so blue... It's intoxicating.
He's funny. Not only his stories but just the things he does.
He doesn't put on music when we're in the car... he likes to talk. A lot. Tom talks a lot. And it's sometimes just to make noise. I find this so hilarious. Maybe in a while I'll find this annoying... but right now he is still shiny to me so we'll stick with hilarious.
He's a little bit geeky and he appreciates my quick wit. Any guy who will want to watch The Dark Knight and Iron Man 2 on your first and second (3d? 4th?) movie dates (they've all blended together in my mind, sorry, time lines aren't really my thing) is awesome in my book. Who knows, maybe next he'll watch blue planet with me? I hope so.
He cuddles. Like for realz. Not crappy cuddles guys do to make you happy, real "get your ass over here" cuddles that really do make me happy. And he is so warm. I need that because I get too cold in these freaking frigid temperatures.
In case anyone from Florida is reading this and wants to bitch, it was 5 whole degrees out this morning. Fahrenheit. 5. Degrees. Suck it people who have nice weather (that goes for you too Ellen).
He cooks, well, and doesn't get pissed when I drop things (note: an egg... that little guy was slippery). He likes what I cook. He eats sweet things. I can't tell you how annoying it is when you want to bake but have no one to share it with. It really discourages you from making a chocolate cake when you know you'll be eating the whole thing.
His arms are so big! Muscles galore with this one. And he wants to get bigger... yum yum yum. Ugh... I love big arms on men, they are my
About my first favorite part: Huge. We'll leave it at that.
Really though... Ha-uge.