I really really love my man.
I mean, totally – in a sickeningly gushy, want his babies type way.
He’s an evil little fecker with a sadistic sense of humour, irritating as sin in an ‘always right’ kind of way and so handy it hurts.
..And he’s all mine.
*grin*
Just occasionally it hits me how lucky I am and all the bad stuff goes away for a bit and everything else pales into insignificance besides that realisation.
He has a way of making me smile at the most depressing point of my day and making me laugh at the things you would normally cry over.
…And he gives the best hugs and kisses a girl could ever ask for.
Seriously, he is the everything and more I always never knew I wanted.
I was actually thinking earlier (well, yesterday) that to have someone like him love me the way he does must mean there is a god out there who actually gives a shit about my wellbeing.
Weird that.
Honestly – I’m a moody, irritable, fairly useless (at the moment) individual, he’s never known me in a state of good health, we met a few months into my delightful CFS journey – yet he’s not only sticking around, he’s happy to be here.
He just amazes me and makes me want to be the person he sees when he looks at me.
If there were more people like him about, the world would be a better and brighter place because people would strive to be better just to be around him and those like him.
No, he’s not perfect, but that’s the best part about it, I don’t worship him, I don’t have him up on an impossibly high pedestal.
I simply adore and love and need him with every fibre of my being.
..Now you can all run along and chunder into the receptacle of your choice. I’ll let you *grin*
