What I mean is, his beard is freaking perfect

There was a birthday party on manfriend’s family the other day and I had to make an appearance by myself for the first time.

Manfriend was busy working on his apartment and Baby J had to go because she only has two cousins there – a boy and a girl – and you know how it goes.  You go to their parties so they will come to yours because when there’s only three kids in the family assistance is kind of critical.

So I prepared as best as I could (which means I ran to the drug store at the very last minute to get the boy his presents), put my best face and went.  I was ready for the talks and the jokes and I knew I was going to have a lot to share with at least one of the moms because she had her baby last month and is breastfeeding.  I breastfed Baby J one year so I’m an expert 🙂 

Baby J had never seen a baby that small before and when she did she sighed.  Apparently it was the most delightful thing she has ever witness – and she’s seen puppies and chicks, kids these days are harder to impress.  Manfriend’s aunt was standing beside her and she melted when she saw her sighting and smiling at the baby.  Clearly the thing to remedy this reaction was in the question she posed.  “Do you like the baby Baby J?  Do you want a little brother like this one?”  Baby J thinks you throw whatever doesn’t work into the garbage can, so I could tell you where that imaginary baby will go as soon as he has his first bout of non-stop crying, but of course she thought it was an excellent idea and nodded enthusiastically.

“Awww she wants a baby brother!  Did you hear that!  You are going to have to give her one!”

We all knew this was coming.  There’s a series of questions and remarks that will follow you anywhere in this island:  1)  when are you getting married?  2)  when are you having a baby?  3)  when are you having another one?  Repeat until you are forty.   4)  When are you having grandkids?  When are you having another one?  Repeat until you die.

I looked at Baby J and told her that I will buy her a male baby doll.  Everyone chuckled, but manfriend’s aunt also pointed out that “it’s not the same!”  Because I don’t know the difference between a real baby and a baby doll.

I proceeded to take out my city girl, sprinkled with sarcasm and spunk, something that never goes right in the Hardcore Country Life.  I said “or I can find another woman for your dad so he can have many more kids!” 

Everyone chuckled again, there was even a loud holler on the table next to us.   I thought it was hilarious, they probably thought I was crazy.  Well, crazier.

Very late that night when manfriend came to bed he asked me how the birthday went and I told him about the two most important events of the evening:  his (adult) cousin broke a rented pool slide and the birthday boy got stuck into a baby swing and there were tears and screams.  I also mentioned the baby scene.

He asked who was there and I tried to explain as best as I could saying things like “there was that guy with the very thick sideburns?  No, the one that always wears the big buckle belt.  And the lady with the two really thin boys, the ones that have green eyes?”    Because I only know a handful of people by their names.  I mentioned a good looking lady with several kids and manfriend scoffed.  “Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t have to go, she’s so annoying.  She’s been trying to get into my pants for years, argh.”  He looked genuinely disgusted.

That’s when realisation dawned on me like a shining light from heaven.  The very loud holler when I made my joke about finding manfriend another woman?  Oh, yeah.  That was her.  She didn’t thought I was hilarious, all she heard was a window of opportunity.

But whoa “miss”.  I can take my city girl out in more ways than you want to know and NAH FREAKING AH.

I mean.  Manfriend sometimes drives me absolutely crazy.  He is far from perfect.  Like perfect would be on one side and he is infinite loops away from that side.  He might land on the perfect side by pure chance but only because he is so far from it.  And we are so different.  Vastly different.  I read this post on insidethelifeofmoi and nodded the entire time because I could’ve written it.  I mean, I don’t have half her wit so, it would never read that awesomely, but we have the same case of different partners.

I’m not even going to go all pink here and say that our love compensates all his flaws (and my flaws, if I have any… ) and we are going to be together forever because JLo divorced Marc Anthony, dooce divorced Jon!  I think that proves that love is weak at it’s core but;  I’m certainly not about to give him away.  He’s not available.  Not for pathetic old ladies who try to score points for their ego or for anyone else.

Lesson of this story:  be careful of the jokes you make and the people you make them for.  Because you never know.

Also, today is manfriend’s birthday so I’ll try to make it one of the days when I don’t want to strangle him.

Happy birthday crazy guy.

3 thoughts on “What I mean is, his beard is freaking perfect

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