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The Guy in Me
I took my girlfriend, Stephanie, to The Melting Pot this weekend. In case you don’t know, The Melting Pot is a really nice fondue restaurant. The type of place where you leave feeling stuffed, sick even, yet wanting more. I also bought her a nice bracelet, the first time I’ve bought her any type of jewelry. The night was a blast, we sat in a private area of the restaurant and were able to smooch like teenagers while the food was in the fondue. She was really happy with the evening, which, in turn, made me happy. I just wish I would do it more often.
I think sometimes the guy (or boy?) in me comes out, and I forget how lucky I really am. I settle for Chili’s or home-cooked Mac and Cheese and a rented movie. I wear shorts with socks, scratch my butt and forget to brush my teeth. It’s disturbing. I’m sure all guys do this, and some, the ones who wish I would shut up, are perfectly content with it. We shouldn’t be, or at least I know I shouldn’t be.
I’m probably the luckiest the guy in the world. You know the guy you see walking around in the mall and you say to yourself, “Why is she with him?” That’s me. Yet, every once in a while I act like I’m the prize. I’m totally not. I hope I never forget that. Here’s to more night’s out and evening phone calls just to say hey, I love you. I really do.
In other, less important, news:
You ever hear a song that you used to love when you were a kid and then listen to it over and over and over again, expecting it to get old…yet it doesn’t? This song is that song for me:
P.S. I’m addicted to Heroes. Oh well, at least it’s not The O.C….anymore.
What’d I tell ya? Look good, smell good. It’s the basics. But if you look good and smell good at the melting pot…hmm….it’s just better. Did I leave that out?