Everyone who know me knows how fanatical I am about handbags. And how, every chance I could get to buy one, I would.
In the same vein, everyone who knows my hubby knows how fanatical he is about limiting my purse-chases. I have to concede, though. As it is, I’m not a socialite, nor am I riche… it’s my hubby who keeps my feet on the ground.
So, for my birthday, I was so surprised (and deeply ecstatic) that he asked me (quietly, in bed last night at the stroke of 12mn) if I wanted a handbag for my birthday. I knew I wasn’t dreaming that. Or was I? That left me speechless for a while, if that were even possible.
I believe, this was the very first time he ever asked me himself - because usually I would just go to the store, get a purse, and tell him thanks for his gift as soon as I got home. 
For years I have been trying to make him see how happy having a nice bag makes me, and eventually I have given up because, inarguably, he’s a traditional male and he would never understand this fascination. But, eventhough he might never be sold on the purse idea, for this one special day, he was willing to give me my heart’s desire - just to make me happy.
More than the bag he says he’s going to get me, his thoughtfulness, his generosity, his love, these alone for me are the best gifts he could ever give me on my special day.
I have left the decision to him. Whatever he’ll pick out for me, I know I’ll love it - but not more than how much I love him.
