On Thursday mornings, I have a riding lesson that runs until about 11:30AM. That day, there’s an amazing food truck making delicious Thai food on the base where Matt works. But because of my lesson, I can’t get there early enough to order lunch for myself before the line gets so long, it’s dinner time before lunch is ready. So Matt goes early, orders his food, and orders a meal for me to pick up on my way home from riding. It’s just a little gesture, but every Thursday I’m grateful for a delicious, hot lunch after a few hours of hard work at the stable.
I read this blog post the other day about a book called Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by author Amy Rosenthal (who also wrote the viral NYT article You May Want to Marry my Husband, and who passed away last week from ovarian cancer). I wouldn’t recommend reading the article without tissues nearby.
I haven’t read the book yet, but I plan to now. This excerpt, though, stopped me in my tracks:
LOVE – If you really love someone, you want to know what they ate for lunch or dinner without you. Hi, sweetie, how was your day, what did you have for lunch? Or if your mate was out of town on business: How was your trip, did the meeting go well, what did you do for dinner? Jason will stumble home in the wee hours from a bachelor party, and as he crawls into bed I’ll pry myself from sleep long enough to mumble, how was the party, how was the restaurant beforehand? The meal that has no bearing on the relationship appears to be breakfast. I can love you and not know that when you were in Cincinnati last Wednesday you had yogurt and a bagel.
When Matt and I first started dating and were living in California, he went home to Maryland for a few weeks over the summer. We had literally only been together maybe a month. We talked on the phone just about every day while he was gone. Later, when I met his mom, Karen told me that she knew I was important because she heard Matt ask me on the phone what I’d had for lunch. Who would even think to ask that of someone if they didn’t care about every little thing they did? That was when she knew I was different than past girlfriends. Less than a month after he got back from that Maryland trip, Matt proposed to me. Right after we went out to lunch.
When you love someone, the little details matter to you. Lunch matters to you. On Thursdays, when Matt orders for me from the food truck, he doesn’t call me first to see what I want (I wouldn’t be able to answer anyway, because I’m sitting on the back of a horse). He looks at the menu for the day and picks the thing he knows I’d pick. He’s never gotten it wrong, not even once; I always check the menu when I pick up my food just to see.
My riding instructor told me she thinks Matt is the perfect husband. He’s not perfect! I insisted, laughing at the thought. And he’s not. But Lord knows I’m not the perfect wife (Matt just did a silent snort-laugh if he’s reading this). And at least he knows what I want for lunch, so I think he is, in fact, perfect for me.