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Where do I begin? In the last 3 days I’ve gone from absolutely loving today, to absolutely hating it.
Let me explain…
On Thursday, I went to HEB to grab some groceries really quick for dinner. It was like paradise! Balloons, roses, chocolate, strawberries, and hearts were EVERYWHERE!!! I instantly became a pile of melty mess on the grocery store floor. I picked myself up, grabbed a box of four luscious chocolate-covered strawberries (shocked later at the register to find out that they cost $4.99), and walked out the door with a cheesy romantic smile on my face totally in love with loooooooooooooooove.
Now, normally, Valentine’s day is no big deal to me. I’ve never gotten into all of the hype. I barely remember last year, but I do know that I got a first-time-ever e-card from my dear fiance-at-the-time. I was content, happy, and like I said, I barely remember it.
Why can’t I be that way this year? It’s like getting married got me shot with cupid’s arrow (who the heck is he btw?), and it was a poison arrow full of a double dose of estrogen. ARGH!!!!
Under normal circumstances, this probably wouldn’t be too bad. But when your husband is on the other side of the world and in harsh living conditions where romance is not the first thing on his brain when he wakes up, eh, not such a hot combination.
I’m not complaining about my husband. He is amazing, wonderful, and sweet. He was thoughtful enough to send me something (not sure what it is because I haven’t received it yet). He got online this morning to talk to me for an hour and a half (which is way more than a lot of other military wives will be getting), and I can rest assured in knowing that I am very loved.
I’m complaining about myself.
Why can’t it be enough?
Valentine’s Day is such a weird time for women. We put so much worth in cards, roses, chocolates, and champagne (not that I drink), and become emotional freakos. Now, granted, this is the way that God made us, so we really can’t help it. We are inflicted with a horrible disease and men, it’s not our fault, and you really wouldn’t want it any other way.
But from this group of women, three classes emerge.
1) The single ones…(hugs to Mary, Maggie, Larissa, Kris, Katy, Jessica, Rachel and the list could go on and on and on but I’m pressed for time.) I remember those awful days of wishing, hoping, dreaming, sadness, and pretending to hold together and act like you don’t care, when you really do. I’ve been there and felt that pain. You aren’t alone, but remember God’s understanding is infinite, and He knows exactly how you feel.
2) The lucky ones…these are the I-Have-The-Most-Amazing-Guy-In-The-World ladies who are in relationships with Mr. I-Love-My-Girl-So-Much-I-Must-Lavish-Her-With-Beautiful-Things. They are the ones who get the roses at work, the romantic getaways, and the chocolates and teddybears.
3) The not-so-lucky ones…these are the Why-Can’t-My-Guy-Be-Like-Hers ladies who are in relationships with Mr. Oh-Today-Is-“Hafta-get-something-for-my-girl-so-she-won’t-hate-me-day”-Isn’t-It? These are the ladies who give jealous glances to the lucky ones who get roses at work.
I’m a misfit. I KNOW I’m lucky, but feel somewhere stuck between single and not-so-lucky.
Can I mention that I hate deployment today? I don’t hate deployment every day, but today I do. Now I really try not to complain. You’ll rarely see my facebook status say “Aprille is missing Russ again for the three thousandth time…” but just because I don’t talk about it doesn’t mean that I don’t.
I’m not looking for sympathy. I just needed to throw this rant out into cyberspace. I’m so confused…
Just know, if you are single…I’m not sure which is worse! Having no one to love, or having someone to love but being apart from him.
If you are lucky…kudos to you! That will be me next year (hopefully!)
If you are not-so-lucky…count your blessings. You are with your man, and that’s way more of a gift than I (and countless over military wives, girlfriends and fiancees) will get this year. TREASURE HIM. Roses die. Chocolate metls (or gets eaten hehe!) Teddy bears get given to the baby. Champange gives you a hangover. But one thing remains constant. He is there. He is with you. And he loves you, even if he doesn’t know how to show it.
And to my other fellow Wives-in-Waiting…lots of hugs!!!