The first time my husband, Billy, said, "I love you," after returning from a trip to San Angelo, Texas, in January, 1984, one month after we first met ... is the exact same way he says, "I love you," to me now. And ... this is not necessarily a good thing.
The Cowboy, is not a sentimental person. He never says, "I love you," unless I say it first, and when he says it, it sounds like he's reading it off of a scripted page. I swear. He might as well just say, "Ditto."
For the longest time I worried about this. I wondered if it sounded this way because he didn't really mean it. But, twenty-five years later, he still says it this same scripted way, so I pretty much know by now that he is just confused as to how to do this any other way.
And ... when he gives me a Birthday or Anniversary card - they are always the most thoughtful, beautiful - exact, perfect cards. But ... he signs these sentimental cards to me with, Billy. Sometimes he will write a note, but not love notes or sappy poems. No ... apology notes. They will read something like, "I'm sorry I never do the things I'm supposed to do," or "I'm sorry I make you mad all the time."
I informed him, after receiving one too many cards with these sad apology notes, "Enough already with the apologies. Can't you just sign the thing, 'I'll Always Love You, Billy,' or 'You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Love, Billy.'" Noooo ... when I die and my children run across all of these special cards I have kept over the years that my husband gave to me, they will read these sad apologies and surely say, "Poor Dad. He must have been just miserable."
These cards ... those with the apologies ... say more about me, than they do him. I have kept them to remind myself of not only the special occasion ... but also ... of the burdens he carried.
On the upside ... He still gives me the most beautiful cards and he has stopped apologizing ... and he may never say the words, "I love you," easily ... but I know he does. I don't need the words ... I know.