My Love

Oh I love this man. I woke up this Saturday morning to my phone buzzing from a text from my sister wanting to know when we were going to meet up. I texted back that I wanted to clean my house really quick but it wouldn't take long. J read the text over my shoulder and said, "OK, let's go clean the house." He knew that last weekend was so busy we hadn't had a chance to sweep and mop the floors and they really needed it. He knew it was important to me.

He takes such good care of me. I have to get up early for work, so I usually go to bed earlier than he does. When I lay down he cuddles me for a bit and gives me kisses. Then I usually browse on my phone. My phone charger is at the foot of my bed, which forces me to stand up and turn off my alarm. I am not a morning person and this is necessary. I usually fall asleep and my phone ends up on the bed. Every night he finds it and plugs it in for me.

It's the little things I really appreciate.

One time J told me that the most valuable advice he ever received was when we were first married. A guy at our church who had been married awhile passed it on. J was told to always express appreciation to your wife. So he tries very hard to notice when I do things and to tell me thank you.

He is also the most considerate husband. It's interesting the things we don't notice unless someone points it out. J always puts the toilet seat down, but it wasn't until we had been married for years that the subject came up. I had assumed that it was something he had always done; perhaps it was a rule in his family and it was an ingrained habit. He informed me that he started doing it once we got married, because he was trying to be nice to me. It was something he consciously did to make my life easier.

I hate cooking. I've never wanted to learn. Very rarely J will ask for help in the kitchen, and I get frustrated trying to cut carrots or measure liquids. But he makes me the most delicious dinners. Where one has a failing, the other steps in. We have the chores divided up so that we're pretty happy. I actually like doing laundry, and I don't mind scrubbing toilets. But I hate putting groceries away and feeding the dogs.

He makes me laugh. Sometimes I think about the celebrities who have their own reality TV shows. I'm pretty sure people would think our inside jokes are weird. I don't even care. He's hilarious and he's my friend.

The thing I appreciate the most is that J doesn't treat me like some men treat their wives. He doesn't talk sharply to me or in an annoyed voice. He doesn't get irritated when I'm talking or tune me out. He treats me like a friend. When he gets up from the couch, he asks if he can get me anything while he's up. When I don't feel well, he takes care of me and doesn't make me feel like a burden. He calls me at work to ask how I'm doing or tell me he misses me.

It's amazing, because ultimately I am a selfish being. But when J is so nice to me, it makes me want to return the gesture. I look for ways to be nice to him. To make him smile. When I don't want to do something, but I know it's important to him, I have to fight against my nature to be selfish. Usually he wants me to come into the office or outside to his garden when I'm in the middle of a book or TV show. I ask him if it's important. He gets a look on his face that says it is to him, but he won't make me come if I don't want to. So I come.

People have seen our relationship. Apparently it's unusual. I've been told to "just wait," that the honeymoon phase will wear off. Being married to most people means having someone you don't have to be nice to.

Maybe it's because we don't have the stress of children. But I feel like J would be kind to me anyway. I give him all the credit.

When J talked to my Dad about getting married, my Dad asked J, "Are you sure? She can be difficult." Something that hurt my feelings at the time. But J knows how to handle me. When I'm being a brat, he doesn't get upset or yell or tell me to quit. He laughs and looks at me like I'm adorable. He teases me. He coaxes me out of my stubbornness.

He is my puzzle piece.