The guy is trying his best. After a long anticipated countdown-for-all-the-world-to-see ten-day trip for Boyfriend and Mimi, I arrive with one foot in the grave and a lamb's shake away from meeting my Maker. Well.....maybe I'm exaggerating; but not much.
After five days of a wicked case of salmonella poisoning, the flight from hell -I moved so slowly through the airport people in wheelchairs were passing me- losing five pounds and sleeping a lot, I'm finally up from my bed of Kaopectate to see another blog day; and ponder the question, what doth a boyfriend make?
I found out this weekend.
What woman isn't thrilled to receive Godivas from her guy?
Mimi. That's who.
"Get those things away from me!"
"But you love chocolate."
"Not today, Sweetie, not today."
"OK," he replied, as he looked at my once porcelain complexion now turned strangely green, "maybe you'll feel better tonight at the restaurant."
(Restaurant??!!) Girlfriend cannot go to a restaurant. I nearly passed out walking by Starbucks in the airport.
"Restaurants serve food."
"Roses?....Your favorite col....." he almost had the pungent single-stemmed bud from behind his back before I said, "Get that thing away from me!"
"Are you feeling alright, Mimi?"
"Of course not. I have food poisoning. I've been sick since Tuesday night."
"I knew you were sick, Hon, but it's Thursday now," he said. "Shouldn't yo be over it?" Green-faced me looked at aromatic-flower-carrying-boyfriend with an unbloggable expression. This, I thought, could be the ultimate relationship test. How will we fare under less than perfect conditions at the onset of this trip and an unpredictable outcome? Nothing to do but play it out.
I started to cry.
"I'm sorry. I can't believe I'm sick either." His expression changed . "If you're sick, you're sick," he said. A bear hug and a kiss (sans the flowers) told me everything would be OK. I called my doctor. "Yes, Miss Pencil Skirt, you certainly can have a fever from food poisoning and salmonella will last approximately five days."
No romance? No lobster cooking? No dancing? No romance?
Oh, I said that.
Want the dirt, friends? This is how the first few days of our trip went:
I took meds. He took my temperature. I fell asleep. I tried to get up. I fell back down. I took more meds. I went back to sleep. Ginger Ale and Gatorade were my friends. I got up again. I fell down. Sometimes he caught me. Sometimes he didn't. I talked in gibberish. He answered. I wanted to blog. I couldn't. He helped me post my Comeback Challenge. I passed out again. I had a strange craving for pickles and lime sherbet. This is not something a man wants to hear. He laughed.
I ate a pickle.
It was not a good idea. Here we go again.....
Which brings me back to my original question. What DOTH a boyfriend make? "Just let yourself be sick, Mims," he said. "It's OK."
So....after lounging in la-la land the entire first Saturday night of our romantic caper - squeezed behind him on the sofa while he watched news and sports - I heard the infamous Boyfriend (from whom we've all come to expect sardonic wisecracks and endless jokes) say to his hot-headed lady, "Time to go to bed. And by the way.....you're beautiful even when you're sick."
Forget the roses. Forget the chocolate.
I'll take that any day.