Mr. D is a salesman, which means when he's in public he's "on." He has a public personality and a private personality that most people never see. These two faces are both genuine, but I've come to believe that the one I see at home is more truly Mr. D's. Like most people with huge public personas and large amounts of charisma, the man who comes home at night can be dramatically quieter and sometimes even grumpy to counter the exertion of being "on" all day long. After a week of constant contact, the last thing Mr. D wants on the weekend is to gad about with More People.
I'm used to both of his faces. I'm used to seeing him every day and I've grown accustomed to the lines on his face, the silver in his hair, the cleft in his chin. I see him without really seeing him.
This morning we sat on the porch drinking coffee and talking. Suddenly I saw him--differently--I saw how handsome he is, how boyish he still looks. I can't put my finger on exactly what part of his face I saw in this new light, but his eyes looked bluer, his jaw more defined. I glimpsed--for a moment--why so many other women find him attractive. And it reminded me that I take him for granted in many ways. I'm a pretty lucky gal.