How You Know I Love My Husband (AKA: I Loathe Mustard).

Did y'all (and I can use the term "y'all" because I married a Southerner!) see Ms. Ali's adorable "how we met" post yesterday? I thought about it, and realized that I've never shared how Eric and I met! You want the long version, or the short? Okay, I'll give you the short...

Many moons ago. Or, well, 2008, exactly, I was single for the first time in a long time. I'm not exactly your bar-hopping, club-going sorta lady, so on the encouragement of my family and friends I...joined good ol' Match.com. That summer Jenny was working as a hostess in a restaurant in town, so I decided to take all my dates to that place, ensuring that she sees the guys, and I was safe. Plan made. However, someone threw a wrench in the plan. This boy from Connecticut (well, later I found out he was CT by way of North Carolina and Illinois) found me online and wanted to meet up! He was cute, and a musician. However...I was playing it very safe, and honestly...didn't want to meet up in NYC (and there was no way I was driving to Connecticut!). So, we traded a few emails...and then school started up, and the emails stopped. 

Well, a year later, to the date, actually, I got a Facebook request. I had just gotten out of another relationship, and I told my mother, "I'll be single til I'm 26! This is my time!" She laughed at me. Anyway, this Facebook request was from this guy named Eric. I looked at his photo and thought, "He's cute! Did he date Melissa or something? How do I know him?" I went to my Gmail and searched, and low and behold--we had talked! This was the bluegrass musician! I messaged him on Facebook, a few days later I was brave enough to hand over my phone number, and then the next week, he drove out to LI where we spent the day walking in town, eating bad hamburgers, and talking about everything. We haven't spent a weekend apart since. 

Now, back to the title of this post: Eric has done many, many things to show he loves me. Like for example, moving out to Long Island and making a 5 hour a day commute home every night. Clearing out space in his music studio for my sewing things. Or, you know, asking me to marry him. But, I believe that my spectacle of love trumps all:

I spread mustard for him.

Now, I love to eat. I love food. I love most food. I loathe mustard. Despise it. Hate it. I am totally repulsed by mustard. 

However, back in the days when Eric was commuting a gazillion hours a day, we got into the habit of me making his lunch every morning. I'd make him a sandwich, with a meat, cheese...and mustard. I love making his lunch, I love writing little notes, sometimes throwing candy in, sometimes a special food. So, I never mind the lunch making. But, man oh man...when I reach into the fridge and pull out that squeezable bottle of mustard, it's like a constant daily reminder of "you love him!" Now, this, to me, trumps all. Forget engagement rings, forget spending half your day in a car, forget switching jobs to be near me...I use mustard for you! 

So, how do you know I love my husband? Check out the bread in his lunchbag...as long as it has a slathering of mustard on it, he will know he is loved! 

What do you do to show your love to your significant other?

(PS. Happy Valentine's Day to my wonderful, musical, loving husband!)

Check out these delicious (to others) looking mustards from Etsy!