Marriage isn’t easy; especially mine.
But for the first year The Rock and I were together, our relationship has been challenging. We both like to be right, for instance, which can ruin some marriages, and we don’t fight well. We tend to get wrapped around the axle and focus on stupid extraneous stuff, and not on what caused the argument in the first place.
I’m also extra sensitive and things that might not bother a normal person, get under my skin. I’m easily hurt, and when I’m hurt, I lash out. Or ignore you completely.
I admit to being envious of other bloggers who write about their husbands and marriages, which seem to be wrinkle-free. My own marriage is anything but harmonius much of the time, and The Rock and I must work extra hard to keep things smooth.
I often wonder if it’s me, that maybe I’m a pain in the ass who’s never happy. Then, I think it’s all him, and he’s a contrarian and if he’d just shut up, everything would be fine. Many times, I think it’s us; we just don’t match and I should leave, rent a condo and never worry about making dinner ever again. What delicious freedom.
Then, I remember what we’re all about. The Rock really is my best friend: the way I friend should be — he tells me what I don’t want to hear because I need to hear it. He doesn’t sugar coat anything, which is irksome, but also welcome. With The Rock, you get what you get. He doesn’t BS you, which makes his praise that much more valuable.
He also makes me laugh, most recently when he suggested that a hot dad be called a FILF. And, he’s a GREAT dad. I don’t use those all caps lightly. He bases everything around the girls, and even ditched a boy’s trip to Vegas this weekend, because he dislikes being away from Toots and Booger too long. Plus, and most importantly, he keeps trying. He hears me and tries, really tries to be better. Which honestly, is more than I can say for me. I prefer he do all the trying. And I’m only half joking.
So we go on, and sometimes I think of that condo and not making dinner and sometimes I rant and I rave and then, I look around, get a grip and go on again.
Somehow, it works.
Anyway, I went on and on, but the purpose of this post was to list some of the things The Rock does that show me how much he cares. As I snapped pictures of these things just a short time ago, I started to think I was crazy. There’s a lot of love there. And maybe it’s not all hard. Maybe it’s soft, too.
And so these are some of the reasons The Rock rocks…
For Valentine’s Day, The Rock gave me a card, which was sweet. And that’s all I expected. We don’t normally exchange Valentine’s Day presents. BUT, this time, there was something else. He bought me a kick ass necklace, too, because he knows I love kick ass necklaces. And he picked it out himself and everything. When I think of him looking for this necklace, I’m touched. It was a thoughtful gift and all I got him was a steak.
I don’t just love The Rock because he buys me things. I love what he goes through to get the things he buys me. He hates shopping with a passion and to prove it, he still wears shirts from 1989. But for Christmas last year, he braved a busy mall, a crowded store and an activity he abhors, to spend hours in the Coach store picking me out the perfect purse. It’s cute because it’s functional, like he wanted it to be. This particular model was selected for its front pocket, which I could put my cell phone and grab it easily when it rings. Really, this purse was all about making it easy for me to locate my phone. And that’s love. Or someone who’s sick of me not answering my phone because it’s sunk to the bottom of my handbag.
These were my birthday cards. Knowing The Rock doesn’t say anything frivolous, these mean the world to me. In case you can’t read it, or are skimming this because what the hell! who wants to read about nice husbands, the cards say:
(card 1) I love you all the way to the stars.
(It’s signed “Bub/Bob,” which is an inside joke.
OK, I’ll tell you: he looks like Bob Hope from the side. “Bub” is what I say after two glasses of wine)
(card 2, which he gave me two days before my birthday) I wanted you to start manifesting your birthday wish/es early so they had more time to stick. I will help you wish if you want.
Love, Me (“Love” had an arrow pointing to it, with the words “double entendre” written below it)
(card 3) Don’t give up on your dreams! Your greatest supporter.
We didn’t really have money to spend. But I loved this. And he let me get it. I have nothing to add, but, thank you Bub.
We didn’t really have money to spend. But I loved this. And he let me get it.
We actually fought about this. I didn’t think a bookcase would look good against this wall. He did. I gave in. And I’m glad I did. You know what? It looks good against that wall. Also, I love that bookcases and books are important to him.
Many years ago when The Rock played regular basketball, there was a goon he didn’t get along with on the other team. This guy was kind of dense and failed at trash talk because he couldn’t think of anything properly insulting to say, like “yo mama.” So one day, (and we speculate that he thought up this name all weekend), he called The Rock a “skinny monkey,” and actually it fit and it made us laugh and every holiday after that, The Rock bought me a skinny monkey so I would have him near me all the time. I actually wore this around my neck like a talisman when I was pregnant. Because nothing says love like a monkey around your neck. Hmm. Why haven’t I been involuntarily committed yet?
We fight about this too. You know, “I do more than you do around the house.” But now almost every night, because he knows it means a lot to me, The Rock does the dishes, even though he probably works harder than I do every damn day.
He went to this with me. He hates stuff like this. They make you talk and share and cry. He loathed it. But he loves me, and when I forget, I read through this account of our Retrouvaille weekend.
Then, there’s them.
That’s all I’ve got to say about that.
But right? Bob Hope.