Tonight, thirty years ago, he asked me if I wish to be his wife. And I said yes!
Tonight, today, we watched Hope Springs and slept at it, because we felt tired. Until six o’clock in the morning when, sensing his morning wood, I’ve opened up, still sleepy.
We didn’t make love that night because we were so in love. Like all of a sudden. I couldn’t believe what he asked and I was amazed when hearing what I’ve answered. We cuddled and kissed and danced and cuddled some more.
Before that Silvester night, before tonight, I used to take the leap in a new year together with my parents and my sister, in their apartment, or together with them and close relatives in one of their homes. A world of the ’60s or ’70s at best. Nothing like the rockers and punkers and nerds and smart asses and new romantics, nothing like the music and the dancing and the smoke and vodka shots and countless beers that were knocking my ears, blurring my eyes and dizzying my mind. I was at a party, a Silvester party, out of my comfort zone. For the first time in my life. And for the last one.
The next night, he asked my hand, on Easter we were engaged, in August married. Silvester ’89, like all others following, I’ve spent together with my new family (and my sister, for a decade or so).
My main resolution for 2018 is, or I wish to be, the rule of thirty.
When I get angry, then I’ll have to remember the rule of thirty, to see a red blinking 30 in front of my eyes and reduce my exasperation to 30% because no anger, that I know of, can fix a thing.
When I wish to hurry, then I must get the 30% in front of my eyes and scale whatever speed down because no time is more important than my integrity.
When I make love, then 30 will tell me where is the case to consider my orgasmic waves being too many.
In the spirit of the rule of thirty, you’ll get 30% off if you grab the One Year Subscription this January.
And I wish to write more in this year. Like I wished before.
Have a Happy New 2018!!