In case you haven't learned yet--guys don't read minds. At least mine doesn't. I actually have to talk to him and sometimes blatantly hint when I want him to do certain things.
I have yet to come home to a surprise candlelit dinner or tickets to a concert with that one band I love or a new dress laid out and a note telling me to be ready for the night of my life by seven. I didn't marry that guy. (If he even exists.)
Instead I married the guy who wants to rub my feet because that's what he grew up seeing his dad do for his mom. I married the guy who will drive all around--even though he is not the world's best solo navigator--to get my film processed so that I can do homework in between classes. The guy who makes breakfast and lunch for us almost every single day. The guy who can make my headaches ease just by kissing my temples and being close to me. And you know what? I'm glad that of all the superpowers he doesn't have mind reading is one of them--it's too Edwardian anyway. I'd much rather tell him to look at my Pinterest board or play "Which dress would Alison want" when we're in Anthropologie than have to give up the heroic things he already does so well.
P.S. This picture was taken last night for my photography class. Our assignment was to photograph the person who means the most to us. It felt like the right image for this post. Multitasking at its finest.