Nothing to See Here…

Of course, any blog post with this title should, by all measures, belong under a February 14th date. But - HELLO? - have you been FOLLOWING my blog at all? I don’t do anything on time. So I’m a day late, but it’s still worthy of coverage I think.

Don’t assume I’ll write a mushy post about how my sweetie and I still hold hands, gaze into each other’s eyes, say “I love you.” Oh, sure, we do all that, and more. But those are the easy ways to see the love. What I’m getting at here is finding the hard-to-see things that scream I LOVE YOU! even as they might piss us off or gross us out.

For example – I love my husband dearly in spite of that disgusting habit he has that I shall not talk about here. But really, ewww. And in return, he loves be in spite of that gross habit I have (which, if you ask me, isn’t half as gross as his habit and that’s all I have to say about THAT.)

There are hundreds of things like this if you look hard enough.

I know that my husband loves me because he is always covering me up when I get into bed at night. He wants me to be warm and cozy. It doesn’t matter that I feel suffocated and want OUT, out, I say. It doesn’t matter that for 14 years, I’ve been telling him to stop fucking covering me up when I’m HOT. He loves me and covers me up and says “But, honey, you’re always hot. I’ve been telling you that for years…” See? He loves me.

And I love him, too. Before I’ve gotten into bed all this week, I’ve put anti-fungal stuff on my toe. Now, I’m not sure that there is any toe fungus (go ahead – EWWW!) but there is an itchy spot on my toe and he thinks it’s fungus and it really squicks him out badly, so I put toe fungus stuff on before I go to bed; I love him THAT much. See? Love. It’s everywhere.

He loves me so much that when we commute to work together, he always turns on the seat warmer for my seat in the car. Because he cares about my ass being cold. Now, if you would refer back to a previous entry in this love-fest, you would already know that I’m FUCKING TIRED OF HIM TRYING TO REGULATE THE TEMPERATURE OF MY BODY TO SUIT HIS COMFORT ZONE. But I know he loves me and that’s why he won’t listen when I tell him to stop turning on my seat warmer and for god’s sakes turn down the heat in here before I spontaneously combust! The warmth of his love is all I need even on the coldest days of winter.

I love him so much that I stay married to him in spite of how loud he drinks. And in spite of the fact that this loud drinking thing, evidently genetic, is now carried on by other smaller people in the house. The love is so deep that I have resigned myself to the TMJ I will have from clenching my teeth every freaking time he or one of his spawn drinks something in my presence. Now, THAT is love.

He loves me so much that he buys me underwear. Lots and lots of underwear! Ridiculous underwear that make me grimace! The most uncomfortable underwear anyone could possibly design! He has bestowed upon me so many pairs of underwear that there is no room in my underwear drawer for the big cotton sailboat underwear I DO like to wear! He loves me so much that he is slowly and systematically getting rid of the underwear in my drawer that he hates and replacing them with the itchy, goofy, ridiculous underwear!

Me? I love him so much that I occasionally wear a pair of those damn britches (but only after he signs a NDA and agrees with the “No Recording Devices” policy I have instituted).

He loves me so much he puts up with the French fries in the minivan and my approach to car maintenance.

I love him so much that I put up with his damn father and the oatmeal bowls and his pillows made up entirely of dust mites.

The truth of the matter is that we’re stuck with each other. No one else will have us. But dammit, we’re happy and that’s all that counts.

Happy Valentine’s Day, my love (who claims he does not read this blog but I don’t believe him, and yes, I know that trust is the foundation of a good marriage and here I am on the fucking Internet accusing him of being a liar, but he’s only lying because he loves me and wants me to have the illusion of ‘my own space’ on this little corner of the ‘net).