- Share This Post
- submit
- 2
-
Sparkle (0)
As mentioned, I am a big fan of planning – especially for trips. This process allows me to extend the fun of a trip for months prior to departing, and I enjoy the excitement it brings me.
While preparing for our trip to meet in New York City, a large focus for me was making sure that Lo had fun – he was spending a great deal of money to do this, and he’d never been to the United States before. He didn’t know anyone besides me there. It was incredibly important to me that he have a fabulous time.
Try as I might, however, I couldn’t seem to get him to commit to any of the things I thought he might want to do. It's not that he wasn’t agreeable; on the contrary, he was overly agreeable. No matter what I suggested, I received the same response, over, and over, and over again:
“Whatever you like darling. I’m on standby mode – whatever you like!”
It was not until we arrived in New York that I began to grasp the full weight and power of Lo’s “Standby Mode”.
All decisions would be made by me. It wasn't that he didn’t have opinions, or that he couldn’t have made a choice; it came down to the simple fact that he knew that this would drive me insane, and Lo is someone that loves to play and tease. Standby Mode, he had decided, would become our new game, and it was a game that amused him to no end.
With a twinkle in his eye, he took it to the next level by refusing to order his own food. No matter where we were, or how many of my friends we were with, it went something like this:
Waiter – “And for you sir?”
Lo (in his most helpless voice) – “Ohhhhh I don’t know – SHE knows. I don’t know, I’m on standby mode, I don’t know….”
At this point, all faces at the table would turn to me with great amusement; with the exception of the waiter, who clearly thought Lo was the most ridiculous man on the planet, and Lo himself, who was determined to keep his mask of helplessness pasted to his face. He was unable, however, to hide the glee in his eyes, as he looked at me as if to say, “Your Move”.
The waiter directed his gaze to me, eyebrows raised, waiting for my determination of what food another capable adult should be putting in their mouth. Hiding whatever traces of amusement I could from my face, I began my part of our dance.
Amanda – “Ummm…. He’ll have a cheeseburger?” I said in my most unsure, reluctant voice.
Waiter – “And how would he like that cooked?”
Amanda – “Ahhhh… medium?”
The chuckles from others around the table began to grow more audible.
Waiter – “And what kind of cheese would he like on that?”
Amanda (after a pause, now appearing to have a headache from the entire experience) – “American??”
With this, the waiter would depart, my friends would laugh, and Lo would just lean back in his chair, with a pleased look on his face.
I have made it quite clear to him that turnabout is fair play.
When I
