Happy Valentine’s Day
On February 13, 2021 by Speranza
I remember telling both of my sons that while large breasts were a very nice attribute in a girlfriend, the more pressing question should be, as the relationship began to deepen: “Would this person make you soup when you are sick?” As one might imagine, this question produced uncontrolled braying laughter, the kind where you need to support yourself (often coupled with a very unflattering parody of myself as a doting Jewish mother complete with ‘Woody Allen Hands’). But as the years have passed, I have noted with a rich, smug satisfaction that both of them have managed to attract partners who definitely hit the mark. Kind, intelligent, sensitive women, not remotely vapid or pouting and who also happen to be (more than a little) traditionally beautiful.
When Frasier was quite ill with an unglamorous stomach flu and I called him to check in, he shared that there had been soup and that it had been made from scratch (Hot and Sour, if you care about such things) and he ended the chat by casually confiding that she was definitely The One. Niles too, still with The Girl with the Violet Eyes after many years, can claim not just ardent soup-fetching but also, someone who will tolerate his (equally unglamorous) overt, old-man-crabbiness when sick.
Not everyone will be this fortunate in life, trust me.
Lace-trimmed chocolate boxes and dreadful champagne flutes with dangling plastic hearts aside, (preferably FAR aside) I think that the best Valentine’s Day (or any day for that matter) is full of intimate moments that should be noted and appreciated. This kind of ‘intimacy’ (as opposed to the immensely fun kind) is when someone remembers exactly how you like your tea and presents it in your favourite cup; someone who understands that crosswords are a good way to divert galloping anxiety and somehow slyly produces one (always the NYT!) at just the right time; someone who wakes up in the middle of the night because you happen to be as well, and chats spontaneously until you can both sleep again; a person who can make endless excuses for the cat who has eaten plant leaves again (“I think he has a vitamin deficiency?”) He does not – and seems to enjoy vomiting recreationally.
(The cat, not The General …)
Then there are exquisite poems, carefully written by The General himself and always surprisingly tender. The last one even included an illustration. (I did wonder when I saw him studiously colouring away at the TV table but did not like to press further …) I’ve re-read these dozens of times, so truly incredulous that they were written for me.
He also makes me laugh – all the time – and I am a very selective laugh-er.
As an aside, no one is more shocked than I am that I would be with someone else this late in life – or at all – after 30 years with my Starter Husband. It still seems impossible and stranger than anything I could possibly make up. But after twelve years now it is consistently amazing and I am continuously grateful. Not because I cannot be on my own, which is a key part of the story – but because every day is immensely improved and simply way more fun, being with him.
Also? There has been soup here, many, many times – although the nice people at Liptons’ are usually enlisted to help.
Touching blog.
AND at recreational vomiting I did laugh out loud.
Now I know why I sometimes do a crossword. It’s true for me too that it is calming. I can’t imagine being able to do the NYT. Sometimes I get one word.