See, both of us are the type of person who wants the other to be happy. We've actually had "arguments" that stemmed from the fact that though each of us wanted different things, we were both nearly adamant that we actually do what the other wanted--to make each other happy. It's kind of ridiculous, in a hopelessly romantic, goofy sort of way.
Most of the time, our compromises are a result of us just being ourselves...but that's also when we have our best "moments"...go figure.
Case in point--our First Valentine's Day. I don't usually make a big deal out of Valentine's Day, mainly because most of the time I wasn't with a partner who wanted to make a big fuss over this particular holiday. I knew in advance though, that The GF DOES make a big, HUGE, enormous deal out of it. (Hearing her describe it at first, I was horrified...I imagined some sort of red, pink, and glitter gay love pride parade [not that pride parades are a bad thing...just not really MY thing] but I later figured out that wasn't the deal at all. And heaved a huge sigh of relief.)
Valentine's Day ended up being on a day that The GF was working a long shift...she'd either be asleep or gone all day, and well into the night. The day before, though, we were both going to be home pretty much all day...and part of her gift came in the mail that morning--it all worked out perfectly.
As a math major, The GF has a wee little obsession with puzzles: Sudoku, those little wire puzzles, etc. She also has a love of interesting things made of wood, as her father was a fantastic carpenter. In trying to find meaningful gifts for her, I tried to meld these two interests. I think I succeeded.
And then I had to wait. Have I mentioned that I HATE waiting? I think I have.
They would have really thought I was something if they knew about the bubble bath...complete with a rose petal trail from the front door to the tub...petals in the tub...and wine and candle light...(and frozen pizzas for dinner, thanks to my lovely sous chef.)
They all had their panties in a twist about it for a couple days, and then....the next gift arrived. This is what happened.
A large box arrived at the front desk with my name on it. The receptionist called back to my office to let me know, but I wasn't at my desk. (I was busy...whaaaaaaat?) So then she called a couple others in my department to get someone to let me know I had a rather large package awaiting my signature up front.
About an hour later the message was finally relayed. I moseyed up to the reception area (that's how we roll) to see what all the fuss was about. The receptionist, by this time, reaaaaaaaaaaally wanted to know what was in that box, probably because she noticed the return address: Hershey, Pennsylvania. Because she's waited so patiently, I went ahead and opened the box at her desk, hoping it wasn't anything too embarrassing...you know, like a giant set of chocolate knockers or something equally lewd. Much to my surprise, it was FIVE POUND CHOCOLATE BAR. Hell, it was a newborn in a shiny silver wrapper--minus the viscera, of course. The receptionist insisted I take photos of it, with it...and probably would have asked for a piece to munch on had I been able to figure out how to get into it at that moment.
I happen to work in a department that is NOT, I repeat NOT afraid of food.
They were very nearly afraid of this thing. (That's it in the photo there above.) The neat thing about it, other than the fact that it was a ohmygawdhugeeffinghunkofchocolate...was that it came in a mini styrofoam cooler with its own wee ice packs. I suppose that was to keep it from melting...but it was February. Granted, the folks at Hershey know more about chocolate than I do.
We ate on that thing for a couple months. I even shared it with friends. (One of my BFFs received her initial, H, in chocolate...it was great.)
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And that's how you compromise on holiday plans. Nobody's plans were ruined by another's surprise. We both completely loved our "special time." I've always believed that relationships should be give and take--in equal measures as much as possible.
And that's Compromise 101.1. The next installment will be up soon: You tell me I don't have to, and I do it anyway. (Yeah, it happens a lot around here.)