Janna took Chooch to Kennywood on Saturday, leaving Henry and me with the ENTIRE DAY TO OURSELVES. This is rare. Sure, we sometimes get a few hours here and there but never an entire day. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kid, but I was SO EXCITED all last week thinking about this day. I had tons of things lined up for us to do! Like going to eight cemeteries and making Henry finally write about the Jonny Craig show from march! It was going to be such a great day!
Except that we did none of those things. Well, that’s not true: I went to my favorite cemetery really early that morning. And that was just as well, because Henry walks too slow.
We dropped Chooch off at Janna’s around 11am and went to Best Buy because I wanted the new Bring Me the Horizon album. “We’re just going in there for that, and nothing else. SO DON’T WANDER OFF!” I barked to Henry as we crossed the parking lot.
“Oh, so this is really Erin’s Day,” he mumbled. After I bought my CD, he started complaining about how all he wanted to do that day was clean out the car so we could go and buy a new one. You know, “grown-up” activities. So then I started pouting and conveniently purse-dialed poor Kaitlin at the exact moment I started arguing with him about how he never wants to do anything and does he ever have fun? Does he even know what fun is?
I can’t tell if he became more accommodating after my bitchy rant because he knew I was right or because he wanted me to STFU.
Don’t answer that.
Then we were going to go to Zenith for lunch but they were closed for a private party. What motherfuckers!! I was transforming into Hunger Hulk by this point, and we continued to drive around aimlessly, listening to BMTH, and finding nowhere to eat even though there are approximately 87 million restaurants in Pittsburgh. And I was having a fight with Yelp on my phone and kept saying, “LET’S JUST FORGET IT!” It was really looking like it was going to be a shitty day. The first hour of it was, anyway.
But then we settled on Pusadee’s Garden, and had a wonderful Thai lunch outside while quietly mocking the pompous asshole at the table next to us who was with a party of 8 but he was the only one talking, like it was Douchebag Monologue Hour, and at one point even stood up and started singing scales. He kind of looked like John Krasinski, which is unfortunate because I like John Krasinski. But his arrogance brought Henry and I together!
Until the d-bag declared loudly his love for his girlfriend for all to hear. Then I quickly went back to hating Henry.
And posted on Facebook that I was hoping Henry choked on curry.
In an effort to get him to participate in talking about my favorite topic—Warped Tour—I let him look at the list of bands that will be there this summer.
“Are you stoked for any of those?” I asked hungrily.
“Nope,” he said, pushing his glasses up and handing me back my phone.
“Not even Chiodos?!” I cried.
Frown it up, Henry.
During lunch, I half-jokingly suggested that we get tattoos next. We’ve been talking for the last couple of years about getting each other’s initials on our ring fingers, but of course something comes up every time we have some extra money. I thought for sure Henry would have started mouthing off a King’s scroll of reasons why we shouldn’t do it that day, but you know what he said?
HE SAID FINE.
That’s practically an 8 on Henry’s Enthusiasm Scale!
So we went home and I let him play Candy Crush for a little bit and then I said, “Seriously, are we going to do this?” and then we walked down to the street to a local tattoo shop and on the way there I said, “You know we’re going to get there and they’re going to say no walk-ins” because that is just the sort of luck Henry and I have with pretty much everything in life.
But we got there and told them what we wanted and at first we were going to have come back later but then one of their artists got there early and had time before his next appointment to take us so THERE WAS NO TURNING BACK, HENRY.
“So are you guys getting married or something?” Chris, the tattoo artist, asked as he placed the stencil on my finger.
“Oh please!” I scoffed. “We’ve been together for 12 years and we’re still not married. I even gave him a child!”
Chris was probably thinking, “This is weird because they didn’t even seem like they’re in love” and then Henry made some horrible joke about punching me and I was like, “Don’t worry, this is normal.”
Marriage or not, I can’t imagine not being “Erin & Henry.” Even when I suffer my bipolar lows and tell all of my friends that OMG I’M DUMPING THAT MOTHERFUCKER, everyone just kind of goes along with it because they know I’m full of shit. So I didn’t even hesitate to get his stupid letter permanently etched onto my finger. Even though he’s already thinking of other letters to add to his knuckles in case we break up.
I like that if you put them together, they spell “eh,” which is the definition of our relationship. I opted to get mine shaded in pink, but Henry just went with your basic Caucasian mid-tone skin color.
“Is that Henry’s first tattoo?” Andrea texted me while we were still in the shop.
“No,” I replied. “He has a couple stupid ones from when he was in THE SERVICE” and then we text-laughed together.
I asked Henry if his mom was going to be pissed and he gave me that WTF Are You Talking About smirk. I felt it was a legit question because he’s such a mama’s boy! And then I couldn’t stop picture her yelling at him about it and it was making me laugh so hard. Unfortunately, she saw us the next day and approved. Foiled!
“You know this means we’re engaged now,” I said as we walked home with froyo. (A froyo shop opened up within walking distance of our house! AND THEY HAD LYCHEE FLAVORED YOGURT! I’m so fucked.)
“That’s fine,” Henry said, and then I scrambled to take it back because, hello, I’m not screwing myself out of all the fanfare of a real life proposal! I still want a fucking ring!
What a great day it turned out to be though, for real. It was fun acting like a couple of teenagers. Wait, let me rephrase that: It was fun acting like I always act while Henry actually seemed to maybe have a little bit of the f-word.
(FUN, you guys!)
My favorite part was when Chris told me I have skinny fingers. I was like, “THANK YOU!” because nothing about me has been skinny since I was 22, so even if it’s just a finger, I’ll take it.
Man, I can’t wait for our first fight where I get to shake my finger in his face and scream, “I CAN’T BELIEVE I PAID FOR THIS, YOU ASSHOLE!” and then cut my finger off. That’ll show him!No tags for this post.