I really don’t quite understand what he sees in me. Whenever I ask him why he puts up with me, he just counters with asking why I put up with him. Which makes no sense at all, because I can be annoying and exasperating.
I always have a million projects in motion at any time, and I’m always forgetting or procrastinating some significant fraction of them. I am perfectly happy to go to the same restaurant every single time we go out, where I will usually order my favorite dish every time. I could listen to my favorite music for weeks on end without getting tired of it. I know that would drive most people crazy.
He has to put up with me watching football games. And musicals. And weird TV shows that mostly don’t appeal to him. We have extremely different tastes in music. I can’t stand most of the stuff he likes, and he doesn’t care for a lot of stuff I like.
And while one way of listing those things does lend itself to an interpretation of both of us putting up with the other, I really think he endures a lot more crazy-making stuff from me than I have ever had to put up with from him.
I can be temperamental and moody and have been known to have a terrible temper. His version of being extremely grumpy would barely register as me being distracted. He fixes things that I break. He can get me out of a bad mood without hardly trying. He’s generous and patient and cheerful.
And he’s way too handsome and sexy for the likes of me.
All of which contributes to me feeling like the luckiest guy in the world, every time I look at him.
We’ve only been legally hitched for 365 days as of today. But we’ve been together for nearly 16 years, and even after all that time, his smile is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. And seeing his smile melts my heart. It makes me want to be worthy of that smile. It makes me want to be a better person than I actually am.
And that, in case you didn’t know it, is the secret of love.
Font Folly 