Thanks...for the Spanking

Let's pretend this did not just happen and I am telling a story simply to pass the time before the big Thanksgiving Day meal...

Once upon a time a perfectly sweet and innocent girl had a slight disagreement with her lover. The lover--let's call her Mistress--was big and mean and completely irrational. She pulled the sweet girl over her knee and spanked her rather soundly! For no good reason at all! And then had the nerve to say "Happy Thanksgiving!" Humbug!

She's crazy.

Oh, Pura! Silly girl. I'm just going to tell the TRUE story, rather than the insane fairy tale you are telling yourself:

Today is the day--you know the one. It's the one day of the year where a family can gather together, all at one table, in the brisk fall air, before a magnificent feast, and verbally tear each other to shreds. Happy Thanksgiving.

Pura and I decided to opt out. I told my family a very convenient lie that I am just too loaded down with work to make the trip. We also let them believe Pura had the sniffles. Everything seemed dandy. I actually have the week off and Pura has never been happier. I hid her computer away so I could spend some time with her and, wonder-of-wonders, she was okay with it!

And then this morning came.

I never believed in that ridiculous idea that someone can wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I humbly retract my former idea and say it is indeed possible. I went to bed last night with my beautiful little angel and woke up with a demon.

"Good morning, honey," were the first words out of my mouth.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said, as if she had just returned from 10 years ago, when "whatever" was all-the-rage. She stomped out of bed and locked herself in the bathroom. Now, I am usually a pretty reasonable person. (Stop that snickering, Ana!) But her very first word to me was whatever! I hammered on the bathroom door and very calmly invited her to join me and discuss the situation. It sounded a little like, "Pura, you get out here right now and talk to me or, so help you God, I will knock that door down and drag you out." Perfectly healthy and not-at-all abusive.

Her delightful response? "Go to hell!" Happy Thanksgiving.

I waited. I stalked outside the door, pacing for all I was worth. She ran a bath.

As soon as I heard the tub filling, I stormed out. I was not about to spend Thanksgiving with a little demon. I got in my car and drove away. (BTW, Readers, if anything like this ever happens to you, it is probably not the best idea to storm off, leaving the person you love alone on a family holiday, without a note.) Where did I go, you ask? Nowhere! There is nothing open on Thanksgiving. I ended up at a closed gas station, topping off my tank for a grand total of $4.68. That's right, less than two whole tanks of gas. Then I sat moping--I mean, justifiably brooding.

Then my phone began ringing, but it sang that annoying song at me--the one that was popular all summer about an idiot girl giving her phone number to a random stranger even though she knows it's a crazy move. That one. I HATE that song, and I can assure you I never programmed it into my phone. That's when I realized I had grabbed Pura's phone by mistake in my haste to get out of the house. And I recognized the number dancing across the screen: Pura's mother.

I had a few moments of rage, because how did she get Pura's new number? And what could she possibly want to say to Pura on Thanksgiving? And a lot of other rhetorical questions I won't bore you with. I let it go to voice-mail. And then I did the naughty thing, and sneaked my way through Pura's text-log. I know this girl like the back of my paddle-wielding hand. Sure enough, there in her text-log, was a message from Pura to her mother from several hours before. I had been sleeping. It was a simple, sweet "Happy Thanksgiving, Mom" and I could practically hear Pura's nervous heart beating. The reply from her mother made me indignant and irrational (because up until now I was the picture of serenity). "The children coming home for thanksgiving call me mom. Who the hell are you?"

I forced myself to put the phone down without replying to the nasty comment. I forced myself to calm down. I forced myself to think rationally about Pura's little outburst this morning. And I made a decision. 

When I got home, Pura was wrapped in a towel sitting in front of the sliding glass window beside the heating vent. She was crying. I had decided to talk to Pura about everything and forgive her without any incident. I wrapped my arms around her and snuggled her close to me. 

And if that was all that had happened today, I would sign off now and say "Happily Ever After." 

I told her gently that I had seen her mother's text. She shoved me away. "You looked up my texts?" she screamed. "You had no right to do that." Bought her the phone, paying for the plan, rules about no secrecy... Yeah... I had no "right." (Sarcastic air quotes added in print for the readers' benefit.) 

Enter big argument. But it boils down to basically this: Pura threw a tantrum because she needed one of my tougher forms of love. I gave her what she needed. Happy Thanksgiving.

Oh, no, no, no! Mistress invaded my privacy and then spanked me for it. And the up-side is, now I get to cook for two hours. Hooray! (Sarcastic air-quotes left off because I have already crossed her once today and let's face it, she was pretty gentle.) 

Happy Spanksgiving!