Love grows tolerant

Just got off the phone with the hubby.  He's at GMM in Germany for the week, meeting with the other worldwide heads of marketing.  The whole thing sounds absolutely dreadful to me.  I just don't do well sitting in meetings.

He forgot to call yesterday.  Well, last night.  I mean last night for him.  Or was it the night before?  Was it day for me?  I forget.

Two phone calls later, he finally tells me why he forgot to call.  He was drunk.

I remember in October, just before our wedding, Chris went on a business trip and whooped it up a little too much, and forgot to call.  I went ballistic!  How could you worry me like that?  How could you make me wonder where you were!  He had flowers delivered, and I still married him.

Time does a funny thing to love.  It tempers it.

In the beginning, people are all consumed, self involved partners, whether they mean to be or not.

Over time, you just sort of relax.  I have so many things to worry and stress about, I won't waste my time on little things.  That pre-wedding girl was indignant in a new, blooming relationship.

Now?  Eh.  You're a big boy.  Have fun.  Whatever.

He described his evening, which I feel was totally necessary.  He's in Germany- land of beer!

A whole group went out to a nice steak dinner.  Rounds of shots were ordered...four times.  Beer was like water.  He even drank out of a giant community uber-mug of beer that was passed around.

Upon waking in the morning, he described the scene of him undressing his way to the bed.  A shoe by the door, belt, shirt, all forming a line to the crash spot, where he slept soundly through the night.  Even with jet lag.  With his contacts in. 

My response?  "That's awesome."