Sunday, March 27, 2011

Get out of my trust tree, you freak

I made a big hole in my brand new sock. I was already in an ornery mood. I was still vaguely hung over from Friday night (more on that later) and all I wanted to do was cut the damn tag out of my damn socks and put them in the damn washing machine, damnit.

I muttered to myself as I tried to pull the loose thread back into the sock. "Stupid engagement ring, snags on everything. Ruined my new sock. LOOK AT THIS." I waved the sock at Sam. "Stupid ring ruined my sock."

"What?!" Sam feigned shock and dismay. I glared at him. "That ring is a symbol of our love! A symbol of our trust. The circle of trust."

"No it isn't" I said flatly, still yanking my sock, trying to get it to re-absorb the snag. "There IS no circle of trust."

"Oh Yes!" Sam insisted. "It's part of the circle of trust. A branch of our trust tree!" He was practically singing in his effort to mock me.

"Our trust tree." I put down the sock. Max was sitting at the kitchen counter giggling into the other sock and avoiding eye contact with either of us. "Our TRUST TREE? You are such an idiot."

"Yes!" he was insistent. And still with that fucking singy-song voice. "The trust tree!"

Good god. I had to laugh. I mean, how do you not laugh at a full grown man mincing around the kitchen in slipper socks yapping about a trust tree?

That right there is the perfect example of why we have been together for as long as we have. He makes me laugh, even when I simultaneously want to punch him in the nuts. And tree or circle or whatever the hell it is that we have going on, there sure is a lot of trust.

Even when it is completely undeserved.

Like on Friday night, when I hired a sitter and told him we were going to a wine tasting and then a benefit - held on opposite ends of the island. We hadn't been out in ages, and I wanted to get as much fun as we could into one night of babysitting. So, he trusted me. And when we got to the wine tasting and they were serving wine in one corner, and gin martinis in the other, he trusted me when I said it would be fine if I drank both. And then when they were also making vodka martinis, he trusted me when I said I was just going to taste a little of everything. Because it was a tasting! I had to vote! And when I ate my weight in gorgonzola and then told him I was totally full, and would be fine without dinner, he trusted me then too.

And when we got to the benefit and I had a margarita, he trusted me when I said I was having fun. And halfway through the first Margarita when I started dancing like this:

He trusted me then too.

And halfway through the second margarita when I tried to dance with him and ended up just sort of dangling from his neck and straddling his knee for balance? Still very trusting.

And 10 minutes later, when I told him I felt like I was going to throw up? He trusted me on that. He got me out of that bar in record time.

And when we got home and I told him I needed to lie down on the kitchen floor for a minute?
Yep. He left me there, trusting that I knew what I needed to do.

And when I woke up the next morning covered in toast crumbs and clutching a bottle of Advil, you can trust me: I knew exactly who had made me toast, and forced me to drink two glasses of water and take 3 Advil before I climbed into my trust tree and went to sleep.

I have no idea why he trusts me like that. You'd think he would learn by now.

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