I am a huge fan of Sex and the City. I have waited patiently for almost a year for the release of the second film in the SATC franchise. Of course by no control of my own, the premiere date landed on the night before little T.Puzzle’s eye exam under anesthesia. To remedy this unfortunate coincidence, I arranged for our babysitter to come on the Sunday morning following the eye exam so Mad Dog could take me to see it.
This is why I love my husband. Not only does he accompany me to my crazy ‘chick flicks’, he does it with such an air of relaxed confidence that no one would dare question why he is there. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks. He doesn’t care that the reviews of SATC2 have been less than flattering, that the audience was made up of 90% women or that the movie (in his perspective) was a long, drawn-out spectacle lasting well over two hours.
All he cares about is me.
I’m no Carrie Bradshaw with a fancy Manhattan apartment filled with endless designer clothes and shoes, but I am perhaps one of the luckiest ladies on this planet to be married to someone like Mad Dog.
Love you, Mad Dog!
*(poem excerpt by Beethoven to his immortal beloved also quoted in the SATC movies by Carrie and Big)