Today is Jess's birthday. I wanted to celebrate by staying in bed all day and eating bacon. Nonstop. Isn't that what Birthdays are for? Lie ins and bacon? Not Turkey bacon, or that cheapo bacon, mind you. The thickest, most delectable bacon would only suffice. To me nothing says love like bacon.
Unfortunately Jess had to go to work, so I had to forego the bacon plan. I settled on delivering a huge singing balloon and a neon colored cake from Sam's Club to Jess's workplace. FYI - When Sam's Club says "filled with strawberries" they don't mean it. What they do mean is "filled with nasty gelatinous Strawberry filling which is reminiscent of the fluoride flavor dentists used in the 1980's". I should demand a disclaimer.
Today was a busy day and with each errand I ran and each person I talked to I found it hard to believe that they did not know, did not seem to care, about Jess's birthday. Granted the girl that served me coffee doesn't know Jess, nor my accountant, nor the painter, nor the handyman, nor the gal at staples. All of this is besides the point. The fact is that my world rises and sets around this man and I feel like EVERYONE should know that he takes his coffee black, or with half and half if he's feeling 'crazy', that he'll take a dirt road in the middle of nowhere to the middle of nowhere just to be sure he's in the middle of nowhere, that he's probably run 5,000 laps around Liberty Park in the past year, that spontaneity is not his thing and I can't even tempt him with his favorite restaurant or activity if it's at the last minute, that he adores his mom, that he always goes to bed at 10:30 - never earlier, rarely later, that he is the only person in the history of my life to not fight me back when I take irrational fits to new levels, that he has this way when we're driving where he puts his hand on my knee and kind of looks at me from the corner of his eye that makes my hands clam up and my heart start beating so fast I have to convince myself out of needing medical attention, that he loves his dog more than anything else in the world and that "stupid little shit" and "I hate you, dog" are really terms of endearment, that he would hunt every day of his life if he could, but never judges his hunt by amount killed, has a reverence for Chuck Norris and quotes him more than necessary, can consume a whole jar of peanut butter in one sitting, often does, then wonders why his stomach aches, and that every night when we go to bed he nuzzles his nose into the back of my neck and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
There is, however, one complexity about Jess that I think stands out above and beyond the rest...
He thinks he's a great dancer and often likens himself to Will Smith. Yes, I know, but some delusions are left untouched.
So I just smile uncomfortably and let him dance. And you know what he says? Honestly, truthfully he will look at me and say "I just gotta dance" "Would you try to stop Will Smith from dancing?"
"Uh, well... no babe, I wouldn't try to stop Will Smith from dancing. Tell me something, though, just what about your 5'9, 170lb, cracker white ass is similar to Will Smith's? I'm not saying there are not similarities, I'm just curious as to what they are?" This is where I get the glare and he stomps off obviously not willing to grant an answer to such a ludicrous question.
So today on his big day, I am giving him the gift of what I like to call "The Will Smith Delusion", which means the second he walks through the door I will say something along the lines of "I can't quite put my finger on it, but there is something quite Will Smith about you today". I encourage you all to do the same next time you see him. It will be the gift that keeps on giving.
Oh, and I'll try to keep his dancing to a minumum. For us all. That Jess. He's a Keeper. Will Smith delusion and all. Happy Birthday, Babe!