On Tuesday, The Missus and I will celebrate our wedding anniversary.
It’s been eight years, although it feels like a lifetime. Someone once explained
to me that when you have kids, you think about how your life is going to
change. Once you get there, you can’t remember what life was like without them.
It’s been similar for us in our marriage. Life without each other would be too
much to bear.
I’m the first person to admit that I am not the easiest
person on Earth to get along with. I can count on one hand my really good
friends. If sarcasm could be bottled and burned, I could solve the energy
My moods seem to border on bipolar, I set unrealistic
expectations for everyone and I’m not exactly easy on the eyes. If you were to
lay out all of my pros and cons on a sheet of paper, you’d likely never pick
And yet, she did and I’m grateful.
Asking me to explain how and why we work together is like asking
a third-grader trying to explain credit default swaps. A friend asked me once
about why I love my wife and I couldn’t tell him. He was a bit taken aback.
“How can you be married if you don’t know why you love her?”
“That’s exactly why,” I explained. “I know all the things
she does that make me happy, all the things I do that make her happy and how
miserable we’d be without each other. However, those aren’t the reasons I love
her. I just love her.”
A conversation at a convention that in some way ended up
involving a shrink helped me understand this. The shrink said instead of
thinking about why you love someone, think about the things you do that
personify that love. If it’s big, grandiose gestures, it means one thing. If
it’s all about what you buy for that person, it means something else. If you
can’t think of things you do, that can mean something else entirely.
So, I started reflecting on this as the anniversary drew
near. I made the list, not to brag, but to see what it means. Hope you enjoy
I love you so I make coffee for you, first thing in the
morning, even before I pee. I don’t drink the stuff, but I know you do, so I
want you to have some when you pry yourself out of bed.
I love you so I take the first shower in the morning so you
can sleep longer.
I love you so I snuggle you in bed until my arms go numb and
then I stay there anyway.
I love you so I try to cook. I suck at it and you eat a lot
of spaghetti, but I do it so you don’t have to when you’re tired.
I love you so I iron your shirts, even that weird linen one
you love that shrinks to the size of a used Kleenex in the dryer.
I love you so I tell you to buy yarn.
I love you so I don’t care if you’re laughing at me or
laughing with me.
I love you so I ask, “What’s wrong?” until you tell me. Even
if it’s not me or even if I can’t fix it, I know you’ll feel better saying
something about it.
I love you so I say “I love you, too” no matter who is in
the office when you call me.
I love you so I laugh when you fart.
I love you so I go to the story 10 miles away, late at
night, and buy you potato chips, vodka and tampons. I love you so I don’t care
about the strange look the woman at the checkout counter gives me.
I love you so I can’t sleep the first night you’re gone and
I’m at home alone.
I love you so I recite movie lines with you.
I love you so I hear your voice in my head yelling at me
when I’m about to do something stupid.
I love you so that after I do something stupid, I still hear
you, chiding me to go to the hospital even though I don’t want to.
I love you so I till and weed the garden.
I love you so I push you as hard as you push me so we can be
I love you so I chase the hell out of perfection, knowing
I’ll never catch it, but also knowing that I’ll get as close as possible and
that’ll be more than good enough.
I love you so I bug you to sit down, take your inhaler and
use your nebulizer when you can’t breathe, even though you don’t want to use
I love you so I buy you chili dogs and tell you you’re
I love you so I do whatever I can to see that special smile
that makes you look like Frances the Badger.
I love you so I can’t remember all the things we do for each
other because they just come naturally.
I love you so.
3 thoughts on ““A tattoo with her name right through my soul…””
Holy Shit! Apparently you are my husband, blogging under a different name!
What I meant to post was: beautiful, beautiful post.
wow. this is the sweetest thing I’ve read all year.
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