Attention Male Readers: you will not understand this post, so don’t even try. Today, you might want to spend your time over on The Man Shark’s blog, where I know I saw some mention of sports….
Ladies: read on….
Over the weekend I got back together with the man — let’s call him “James” — with whom I’ve been on and off again with since September. Basically, our communication skills really suck. I swear, our relationship is like one long, bad episode of Three’s Company where (surprise!) there’s one misunderstanding after another. Honestly it’s getting ridiculous. But, regardless, we’ve signed on for Round Three, and so far it’s awesome again. (What can I say? The man is under my skin….)
I am not a woman who expects pampering. I am lucky that some of the men whom I have dated in my life have been very sweet and taken the time to make me feel special and adored, but definitely not all. And definitely not my husband. He tried, sometimes, and every once in a while he really hit the mark. But usually, his constant criticism drowned out any sweet nothings that were tossed my way. So, I learned to live without it.
But that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss it. Who among us doesn’t like to feel special or pretty or adored or desired? There is something priceless in basking in the glow of that moment when someone we’re really into looks at us in just that way that clearly tells us that we’re rocking his world. Seriously, how awesome is that?
It appears that sometime yesterday James decided that it’s been too long since I’d felt special and lovely, and truthfully, he’s probably right. So, he did something about it. And it was wonderful.
At my age, let’s face it, there aren’t a lot of “firsts” left to experience with a new guy, but James found one. He walked me into a localclothing boutique that is so expensive that I’d literally never once stepped foot in it. Together we worked our way around the shop, picking out anything and everything that struck my fancy. Then he made himself comfy on the settee while I had my own personal little fashion show. Now, of course I don’t need expensive clothes. But, oh my. The fabrics. The tailoring. The rich luxury of them. I swear to God my body was saying to me, “What is this wondrous stuff and why haven’t you let us have it before???” Sigh.
Just as I was nearly done, James spotted one more dress he wanted me to try on. It was a silk giraffe-print dress, shorter and tighter than I would normally wear (where did that cleavage come from?!), but as I pulled it over my head and it hugged my curves, I fell in love with it.
I stepped out of the dressing room and the look on his face was exactly what every woman everywhere wants to see on her man’s face when she emerges in a new dress: sheer, unadulterated appreciation. The salesgirl even laughed and said to me, “Don’t you just love it when they look at you like that?”
Then it was time to go. We thanked the salesgirl for her time and I excused myself to use the restroom before leaving. Then, as we walked out of the store, a bag appeared and he handed it to me. I was so surprised, I was honestly speechless. Confused. What had he done? Sure enough, I peeked inside and there was the giraffe-print dress. I was absolutely dumbstruck. The dress cost more than my wedding dress. It wasn’t a special occasion. I hadn’t bought him anything. My brain simply couldn’t compute. I wanted to cry, but instead I threw my arms around him and kissed him. We went back inside the store, and I changed into my new dress.
The rest of the afternoon, I felt like a bombshell. That dress and the way he looked at me went to my head like champagne. I could feel the eyes of others on me, too; some appreciative, some disapproving (it is a short dress!), but that didn’t really matter. It was all about how pleased he looked and how amazing and feminine I felt. It was a wonderful, long-forgotten feeling.
Now, I know that an expensive dress wouldn’t do it for some girls, and that’s okay, too. Maybe for someone else, it would be that perfect coat they’d always wanted but couldn’t afford. Or the impractical shoes that are way over-priced but the intense object of your desire. Or the expensive visit to the hair stylist that makes you look red-carpet-chic. The point is that we all need to have that feeling once in while. Everyone deserves to be that woman some time. Just for a moment. Just for one sunny spring afternoon.