Do Not Marry a Person That You Know That You Can Live With; Only Marry Someone That You Cannot Live Without*
With Valentines’ Day around the corner, I wanted to mention a few words about Love. You know, Love with a large “L”. I am lucky. I’ve got someone that is just perfect for me:
- He thinks I’m beautiful. This, as any woman will tell you is priceless. I am not the 125 lb. waif that he met 26 years ago. I do not wake up every morning and immediately put makeup and contacts on in fear he will see me without them. I actually do not wear contacts hardly ever anymore because I’ve grown into bifocals and have astigmatism to the point that even with contacts I must use reading glasses when I want to actually read something. Have I mentioned I read all the time? Yeah. It’s like that. He teases me when I ask him “does this make me look fat”… and holds out his hands, saying “yep, here’s the minefield. Step on it.” To his credit, tho’, he’ll tell me if something just isn’t working.
- We agree on just about everything, but not everything. This is a good thing, trust me. I’ve been with people who agree with me 100% and sometimes I just argued the in the wrong to try and draw them out and make them disagree with me. They wouldn’t do it. I honestly can’t handle 100% agreement. Even if I’m right.
- He does not expect miracles. Read into this whatever you wish. I know what I mean.
- He does not complain about things that don’t get done as quickly as perhaps he feels they should be done, and we never, ever, ever leave “honey-do” lists for each other. Ever.
- He doesn’t complain about my cooking. He eats virtually anything. He’s honest if he doesn’t care for something or if he really likes it and would like it added to the “regular” rotation. He doesn’t put up a fuss if I tell him it’s “his night to cook” – which can either be him actually cooking (he has a short list of things he can do without supervision) or take-out meals or a restaurant dinner either one will count as him “cooking”. If I do cook and am feeling pathetically lazy, he doesn’t have a hissy fit when it becomes shit-on-a-shingle night or frozen pizza. To my credit, when I try, I can be a good cook. At least both of us now have the girth to indicate this.
- We agree on sex. ‘nuf said. I don’t need people finding me from “hot sex on hot nights” or I used to tease him about farm boys being very close to their cows and called him a “cow-kisser”. Then there is the ever popular question “why do we keep getting handcuffs from the Christmas party grab bag and what are we going to do with them?”. Yeah. Those of you who have gotten those searches understand.
- He is surprising. Just when I think he’s spaced off the whole Christmas / Birthday / Anniversary / Valentines’ Day thing… he’ll surprise me and send me flowers or a nice card or will let me know he really has put some thought into it. Of course, I love him enough and understand him enough to know he’s a man and sometimes these things just slip right through the sieve and get lost in the flotsam and jetsam of his life. I’m a good forgiver, too.
- I mentioned it in detail the last posts, but he and I have the same belief system. Having said that, he was supportive when I wanted to try church again and he was supportive when I wanted to quit. That’s my guy. Supportive. 100%.
- He is smart. This man has forgotten more stuff than I ever knew in the first place. He irritates me sometimes because he is one of those people who is a chameleon. He can “dumb down” when talking to just about everyone else in the universe so he doesn’t intimidate them, but damn! I hate that he sounds so “hick-like” when I know he really is intelligent.
- He is funny. He makes me smile every day, if not laugh out loud. It isn’t that he is a comedian; he is just – as we say in our family – a smartass. (Yes, I can hear him now… better than a dumbass. Also a family line.)
- He doesn’t tolerate bullshit. Okay, that’s a lie. He tolerates immense amounts of bullshit from his family, and he tolerates it. Doesn’t mean he likes it, just means he tolerates it. Me? I’m with him…
- He hates secrets. Which is fine, ‘cause I don’t like keeping them. (Except the blog – whatever you do, don’t tell his family about the blog!!!)
- He is good at sharing. This is nice, since I have “only child syndrome” and don’t like to share. He finds this humorous and doesn’t mind when I become rather childish about *my* things. HEY! I said, stay OUT of the chocolate or lose an eye!
- He is softhearted. The man is a marshmallow. Seriously. He is not afraid to give his kids a hug and tell them how much he loves them. He’s not afraid to share his innermost thoughts with all of us and let us know how he ticks. He would yell at the kids (sometimes still does), but then would sneak up to their room before they went to sleep and apologize for his anger. He couldn’t sleep until he talked to them. He suffers from withdrawal if he doesn’t hear from them or about them at least every couple of days. He finds a way to lurk on their blogs or make me get in touch with them… yeah, real subtle. He has become an animal nut and loves our critters as much as I do (of course, a couple of them have become ‘his’ by default…).
- He loves me. I love him.
It’s a nice feeling when you know you’re with the right one. Hope you all have the right one… or, at least, can see a glimmer of it on the horizon. Having said that, I’ve nothing against those who wish to be alone. There is something big to be said for being with the wrong one, too, and in many cases alone is better than that. If you’re happy that way, then more power to you!
Have a good Valentines’ Day tomorrow… and don’t worry about the candy or the flowers or the cards or all the crap that has turned it into a Hallmark Holiday Extravaganza. All it takes is a hug and a kiss and an “I love you”.