Dear Bitter Butch,
When you followed up with me to see if my husband had in fact started bringing me flowers, I explained that even though I had shown him my letter to you and your response, he still didn’t. He had promised he would but they never materialized. You asked why, and I said I thought he felt as if they were a waste because they wilt after a week.
You asked about class. We are comfortably off but we both grew up working class.
I still remember your reaction; it was as if a light bulb had gone off for you. You said you should have discussed growing up without money, and we talked about all the weird habits people have who have grown up that way. You suggested I have the same talk with hubby.
Well I did. He buys socks in 12-packs and I buy him decent underwear as a treat at Christmas. I think adhesive tape is a rare resource. He collects light bulbs against some future shortage, I hoard office supplies. It was fun. We even talked about flowers.
And you know what? Now he buys them for me. So I just wanted to say thank you, Bitter Butch.
Now He Brings Me Flowers