Birthday month may be over but other people are still continuing to get older, and yesterday was my boyfriend's birthday. For various reasons I made most of his presents. I made him cushions (three. I got carried away), one of which had a picture of his face on it.
Him: [staring at cushion and laughing his head off] That's terrifying.
Me: I know.
Him: I love it. It's terrifying.
Me: I know it is. It's been sitting in my room just looking at me for several days.
Him: I sort of feel like I should leave it here.
Me: No way. You having a cushion with your face on it is funny. Me having a cushion with your face on it would just be creepy.
I also made him a cake shaped like a fruit market, because I miss when I used to make people cakes shaped like ridiculous things all the time. Presenting people with tanks and race tracks and beans on toast and pianos and snakes and Christopher Walken sat navs was fun; the recipient usually knew I made stupid cakes and was probably even expecting one, but they still wouldn't know quite what to say when they saw it.
We went for dinner. It was by far the most expensive dinner I've ever had in my life. If it had been half the cost it still would have been the most expensive dinner I'd ever had in my life by some way. I've never done fancy food and I don't really understand it, but it was what he wanted to do for his birthday, so off we went. I dressed head-to-toe 1920s and felt very pleased with myself. We had eight courses (plus a cheese board), all of which were very tasty. At least six of them I wouldn't have gone near a year or two ago. I feel like I'm growing. It was amazing food, and I do understand why it's a thing now, but I still can't get my head round choosing to spend that much money on one meal. But that's OK, it's his thing. It doesn't have to be mine.
(Also we had matched wine with the whole thing, plus some champagne, and I have not been my brightest and sparkliest today.)
Tomorrow I go to my new office. I am nervous, and not the good kind of nervous.
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