Do stuff for me

We discovered I'm what our pre-cana leader called a "do things for me" person. See, when they were explaining marriage and what a long complicated time "forever" is, the leader said there are certain types of people in marriages. There are "do things with me" people. "Do things for me." "Touch me." "Buy things for me." Etc.

It basically means that instead of buying me something nice or hugging me before I've brushed my teeth in the morning, I'd prefer to be "told" "I love you" by having Dave switch over the laundry. Shovel the driveway. Empty the dishwasher. Take out the trash. Yup. That's the key to making me happy. Just do stuff for me.

So, it can be deduced by that and my cold mental state that I just don't like to be touched. I'll hug Dave, Mom, family. I'll cuddle with the dog. But when anyone other than my specified few come at me with hands extended toward my belly, I'm going to freak out. I'm not a touch-me person. Just because my belly is cute and growing doesn't mean it's an open invite to touch. No one is proclaiming that everyone -- yes, everyone -- should touch my belly!

So far no one's been in direct violation of this as they've all been family, but the first stranger in the grocery store who touches me is going to get karate-chopped, right there by the bananas. Don't they know? They could so much easier have asked me if I needed anything. Maybe a bag of dog food in my cart? Anything? And I'd feel much better.