The past two weeks, since my boyfriend and I have moved in together, he has loved me despite the following:
1. How genuinely angry I get when something keeps me from eating at the exact time I’d planned upon learning that there was food in the vicinity. Today, he picked up Pizza Hut, and because I was expecting to eat the moment I stepped through the door, I was immediately hangry (hungry + angry) when I not only found out that I had to wash a dish to eat the pizza on (“Well, can’t we just eat it out of the box?”), but that the pizza was also too hot for me to put it on my plate with my fingers.
2. That I finish a conversation I was having in my head by asking him a question without context
(Me: Do you think Eric ever got married?
Him: Eric who?
Me: From ‘Boy Meets World.’).
3. That I clean things despite his hatred for the smell of “bleach.” Which is really just ammonia. Which is really the way clean things smell. Which is unavoidable, unless you don’t clean.
4. That I wake up an hour-and-a-half early to get ready for work when it only takes me half-an-hour to get ready, and I spend the next hour nagging him to wake up, and he acts like he has no idea where he is.
5. That I make him go on walks on the beach after Sunday night wrestling, when he’s ready to be a blob on the couch.
6. That I say I’m not tired and that I don’t want to go to bed after I’ve already fallen asleep on the couch to “Golden Girls.”
7. That I kiss him a million times when he finally wakes up, that I tell him I love him five times before we leave for work in the morning, that I thank him about 16,890,982,543 times every day for doing this with me and being so patient and sweet. He’s everything anyone could ever want in a partner, and I am so ridiculously lucky.