Hello, boo . . .
It’s me — your significantly better other — again at that time of the
week where I convey my loving thoughts to you in
form. I have some thoughts I would like to throw your way and, by ‘thoughts’, I
refer to wholly democratic decisions taken solely by me, with me, and for me.
If I distinctly remember — and my memory is infallible, as we will conclude another time — you assured me quite early in our courtship that you would pamper me when I become your wife. Now, I remember this so vividly because I was never going to marry a man who would not guarantee pampering; whether or not this knowledge forced you to make the aforementioned promise is of no consequence, mind.
I do look forward to that prospect because I intend to take full advantage of being pampered and, to make sure you get it right, I’ve taken the time to map out my expectations for your benefit (don’t be scared; I’m just trying to be helpful, that’s all). After all, as someone old, sagely, and quite possibly fictional once said, “men need everything spelt out for them in large, clear letters because the number of babies who get dropped on their heads lie in the masculine majority.”
So, then, here are my letters — large and clear:
I expect breakfast in bed delivered with a rose between your teeth every morning. There shall be no excuses and you will always remember to run me a bath after you bring up my tray. When I am done with breakfast, I would like a few more minutes of beauty sleep before you come and lovingly convey me to the bathroom in your arms. 🤗
While I frolic (yes, I am a proud frolicker) in frothing bubbles, you have to be sure to clear my breakfast and clean up any and all messes, tidying every room and cleaning each surface. I would do you a favour and finish up my grooming and dressing myself, although I had initially planned to let you handle that, too (a helpful wife, see?).💁♀️
Only then may you go get ready for work but, before leaving, you would do well to make provision for my lunch and come home early enough to prepare supper of my choice, as I cannot afford to let the cumbersome chore of making my own food be the reason why I miss out on any episodes of the television series I would be watching all day. As your stay-at-home trophy wife, it’s the very least you could do, no? 🤔
We’re not done here, of course, as there’s even more coming your way next week. Till then . . .