A loving valentine for a heartless bastard
Dear Heartless Bastard,
Will you still be my mine?
It may not be the most quintessential way to begin a Valentine’s wish, yet it seems very appropriate for the man that I have lived with for the last 20-something years. To be exact, it has been 22 years, seven months and 24 days, 1,181 weeks and seven days, or 8,271 days. As a prisoner would mark the days of his incarceration (oh wait, that’s probably a poor analogy), as Don Juan counts the marks on his bedpost or a child counts down the days until Christmas, these last 8,271 days have marked for me for some extremely enjoyable and exciting times.
My valentine is a self-proclaimed heartless bastard and also has what he calls an A.R.F (angry resting face). For people who don’t know him, they might assume him to be unapproachable, afraid he would chew them up and spit them out in a single sentence. He can, in fact, be a bit brusque.
When you live with a heartless bastard, it can at times be a bit of a challenge. It’s not like he just doesn’t care about anything or anyone. I’ve seen him offer to help a friend/family member fix a car, give them money, or offer suggestions that might lead them to help them finding some answers. He’s always buying me little gifts, cooking me a yummy home cooked meal and his number one priority is to make sure I am happy.
He generally doesn’t care enough, though, to allow any particular person or problem to monopolize his life to the point where he can’t sleep, eat, think or to inflict stress-related pain to various parts of his body (i.e., head, neck, back). I, however, excel at this. When a problem comes up and it’s 3 in the morning, I’m the one lying wide awake worried about finding a solution, as the heartless bastard’s rhythmic snoring echos from under the covers on the other side of the bed and interrupts my thoughts. I want to scream at him, “Why aren’t you lying awake worrying about this?” But I’ve heard the answer a million times. “It’s because I am a heartless bastard.” I hear him saying this, and I can’t help but envying him, wishing I could put aside all my worries and just fall asleep.
Having been told all my life to put other people’s needs above my own and having made career choices to be a nurse and a mother, I have lived a life with the premise to give, care and nurture. Unfortunately, however, too much giving and caring takes a toll. I became tired and exhausted and do not know or recognize who I really am, as I have spent most of my life only to please others. My heartless bastard has helped me find and recognize the person I am and am capable of becoming. He has taught me that it’s ok to tell someone no and to take time out to do something for myself.
So on this Valentine’s Day, I wish to tell my heartless bastard thank you.
Thank you for continuing to show me how to not let things I have no control over eat away at me and to just to let them go.
Thank you for greeting me every night when I get home from work as I pull into the garage, waving excitedly, happy to see me.
Thank you for considering when you might be a little too harsh and need to tone down your heartless bastardness and be a little bit more considerate.
Thank you for loving me, for being my biggest fan and by showing me that you really honestly care.
Happy VD, I love you. You may have my heart!