The Princess Fiona Plan essentially means that I’m prepared to keep doing anything sweetly Beta for Jennifer and actively enjoy doing it for her, as long as I keep getting laid like tile and she holds up her end of the bargin as a functional adult.
…we’re coming closer to the due date of The Charity Event That Shall Not Be Spoken Of. TCETSNBSO. It’s an annual work drama-fest, and last years quick summary was Turning The Beta Up To Eleven. It’s kind of a five months of dread, two weeks of stress, two weeks of panic and a single day of wanting to try meth. We’re in the two weeks of panic window right now.
I’ve always been willing to pitch in and help Jennifer with it… as long as it was something I could actually help with… as opposed to just listen to a wall of verbiage for all SIX MONTHS about it beforehand. Which is a polite way of saying, “Bitch shut the fuck up about it.”
A couple months back we were consignment shop hopping… it’s one of her most loved day trips… fun, saves money on clothes and she just really likes it. We’re leaving one shop and on the back of the front door is this white dress, covered in a polka dot pattern of various shades of blue. So I drag Jennifer back into the store and tell her to try it on. It fits really well and is immediately declared the dress to be worn for TCETSNBSO. I can’t really describe the dress beyond that because I’m just totally visual and can see it on her like a skin on a 3D model, I have no clue about dress names for styles or anything. Dress. It’s a dress. It has polka dots. Blue ones. I have an erection. Buy the dress.
Fast forward to today. TCETSNBSO is in one week, so work on TCETSNBSO is at a fever pitch, plus Jennifer has to work over the weekend doing her usual work schtick. What she really needs though is a jacket of some description to go with the dress. I’m actually needing to be on the main shopping strip in town for my own purposes this morning, so it’s an easy detour for me into the world of the women’s departments. I dig around and around and not finding over much joy.
I text her at work.
“Would a jeans jacket work for the dress for TCETSNBSO?”
“Ohhh maybe. I could still use it for work even if it didn’t.”
Not impressed with jean options. Try a second store.
Find the perfect top… but in a large. Dig further, nothing in medium, but find it in small, and Jennifer is petite so she falls kinda between a small and a medium.
On impulse I head back to the orginal store and have instant eye contact with an even better jacket hanging on the end of an aisle. Damnit. Now I have to get this one too.
“You have two jackets to choose from when you get home.”
“Two? LOL okay.”
Now at this point I have to explain that while I’m texting her, I know she is around other women at work, and I’m counting on a conversation taking place about the fact that I’m shopping for clothes for Jennifer. They are all a bunch of stress bunnies about TCETSNBSO. After Jennifer is home, I do discover that a moderate length conversation did in fact occur, where I built mad preselection points for actually being capable of a self-directed shopping experience that did not result in returning home with a small bag of magic beans that would grow into a giant beanstalk. Mentions of other husbands being incapable of basic self-care like finding three items on a shopping list in a grocery store abounded.
Once home she got to actually see the jackets, I figured one could just be returned if she didn’t like it, but she liked them both. Even better is that she was hoping to wear the same dress to another event where she’s getting an award about a week after TCETSNBSO, except a handful of people will be attending both events and one is more business oriented than the other. Jacket one fits TCETSNBSO, jacket two fits the award night.I totally play it off like I intended to do that for best comedic effect.
“I had no idea when I was going to find the time to go shopping for those.”
Amazing husband is amazing.
While out walking tonight, I actually opened the conversation up about how TCETSNBSO planning was going. That’s right, I spoke of the unspeakable. Jennifer had about ten minutes of verbal diarrhea as we walked about all that was going on before it starts subsiding.
“Just drawing attention to the fact that I asked you how it was all going.”
“Yes, I noticed that.”
“I’m getting points, right?”
She laughs… “Yes, you are.”
At the end of our walks we stop on the steps and hug and make out a bit before going into the house. It’s our little ritual. Tonight however there was some unusually enthusiastic deep kissing and mashing of her body against me. Plus a remarkably forthright public fondling of my genitals.
Your mileage may vary.
Jennifer: Okay, yes, the whole finding a jacket (no, TWO!) for me to wear with my dress was the best surprise ever. Totally not something I asked him to do, which made it even better. And to top it all off, he spent a grand total of $24! Yes, that is a plus for me…I’m a bargain shopper and he knows I get a kick out of him finding things on sale. And just for the record, the public fondling of the genitals was through clothing and at twilight…I’m a proper lady, right??
Athol: After last night’s photos you’re going with being a proper lady?
Jennifer: Princess then.
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