By Shelby Spear of shelbyspear.com
It’s official. My guy will go to any extreme to get some shizzle. I came home from a six day vacation without him to a house that had been primped, primed, touched up and tinkered with. All in the form of a completed twenty-seven item honey-do list. The head scratcher is I didn’t draft the syllabus; never asked honey to do a single thing.
Considering I left to frolic in the sand with two of our kids while he drudged through the Groundhog days of work, giving him a to-do list would have been a real, pardon my man talk, rhymes-with-kick-and-starts-with-a-d move.
So, no, there was no do stuff registry left on the counter. I departed with a kiss and a fridge full of no-requirement-to-be-cooked food so he wouldn’t starve. My main squeeze decided all on his own that he’d spend his bachelor days completing chores.
I’m sure that seems like a strange way for him to spend his free time. Let me assure you there’s a catch.
If you aren’t familiar with the Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman, the book breaks down actions from our better half that give us the warm and fuzzies into five main categories: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Acts of Service, Gifts, and Physical Touch. There’s a quiz for couples to take, and the scores indicate what makes you feel most loved based on how you rank in the various categories.
My engine is fueled by would you please help me out with some of this $%&@ around the house, i.e. acts of service. And my plus-one feels most loved by the obvious – physical touch. No surprise there.
We learned about the whole love language thing about fifteen years ago. You think you know how to love someone until you find out you don’t know how to love someone.
In our case, my soulmate feels loved in the conquering and coming together, whereas my heart sings from spending time together in the same general space and getting some help with mundanely mundane chores.
The concept proves simple enough once you figure it out. Problem is, who really talks about this garb before marriage? We don’t need fire starters in the early years. Love is all we know, and one sassy look or inch of exposed skin can pour on enough gas to keep an inferno blazing for hours.
Then we have kids, jobs, homes to keep up, endless functions, sporting events, teacher conferences, dance recitals, volunteer obligations.
Down and dirty only means one thing when we’re drowning in a sea of exhaustion: we’re depressed and on day three of the same outfit.
Sex? No, please.
Help you vacuum? Yeah, right.
But if we really want our hearts to stay sizzling, it takes some moxie to invest in our mate’s motor. My swain’s learned that the rewards of handling a chore for me without prompting are scandalous.
Are you catching the drift of this post, or are there too many shades of grey? Never read the books myself. I’d rather watch my eye candy clean under a fridge.
So Mr. Wonderful, in accomplishing twenty-seven acts of kindness, was really stacking up some kindling wood for the future. He was putting in a request for primping, priming, touching up and tinkering of another kind…
My husband is an amazing man, all the way around. Thankfully, I returned home to the surprise while he was still at work, which enabled me the opportunity to take full advantage of setting up a rewarding payback. It was only fair he get a proper return on his investment.
At that’s where this story ends…
About the Author
Shelby is a Christian mom to three beautiful knuckleheads who have left her with an empty nest in which to ponder what the mom thing has (done to her) meant over the past twenty-two years. You can read her open book of revelations, screw-ups, gaffs, and joys at shelbyspear.com. Follow along on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Pinterest.