To you,dear.

This blog is dedicated and narrated towards my hubby. He is a faithful reader (and beginning to be a commenter!) and he takes note of the fact that I rarely write more than a paragraph about him at a time.  In light of our upcoming 4 month marriage anniversary (take that, Hollywood!) and because I’d rather write something nice than clean or cook tonight and just because I feel like being extra sickingly cheesy, This is for you, Boudreaux.

I have words for everything. I could probably make a book about a ripe banana, a porno on june-bugs, a play about toothpicks.  I am a rambler, I constantly write notes in a journal I take everywhere because there is always something,anything to talk about. So why is it that with you, I find it hard to even begin, that I find myself stumbling for what exactly to say right now? Because. Because  what I have with you is something words will never in a kabazillion years do any justice to. They come across as mushy or silly, or too much, or never enough. Words, with you, are insufficient, they make you unworthy when you are honestly the most worthy man I have ever met in my life.  (besides my daddy.)

I don’t know where to even start with what I have with, for who are you to me now. But  I can tell you what you were easy.

You were somebody I saw at a party and instantly, like movie-time instantly, felt a connection with. Maybe we didn’t think  ‘forever’ but it was an , as you put it, “Wow.  She’s the one I want to be with.” It just ended up being forever.

You were then somebody to hang around, to drink with, to get my mind off other shit I didn’t feel like dealing with anymore.

And then you were my first boyfriend. Somebody I giggled about with my girlfriends, somebody to talk about, somebody who treated me nice.

I can’t tell you the exact moment I fell in love with you. There is no moment that stands out, but rather a thousand seemingly minuscule moments. That’s what really makes up me and you, huh? So many tiny moments. I think it must have been somewhere in between the little kisses you would give me on my hand, randomly. The songs you would dedicate to me. The way you made me get over him more easily than I ever imagined I’d be able to. It was somewhere in the mix of all that.

So yes,  I went and fell in love at nineteen years of age. I guess that leaves who you are to me now, which is a hell of a lot more than you were to me then.

You are still the guy who treats me nice, still the guy who kisses my hand randomly,  still the silly boy who dedicates songs to me.

You are the one who understands me more than anyone else.  You are my best friend and being lovers has never complicated this friendship at all, it has made it better even. You and I tell each other every tiny pointless thing, you are my open book and I am yours. I am not a puzzle to you, not a mystery. We do not play games, all of our pieces already fit just fine.

You are the one who believes in me more than anybody in the world. You are so convinced anyone who ever dare say anything negative about me is “Just jealous.” whether this is likely or not. That you can adore me so much to believe that the rest of the world must also see what you do in me absolutely amazes me,tickles me, gives me confidence to know I can do anything and everything.

You are my reason for waking up with a smile.  You are better than anything I could have ever dreamed up in my imaginative little head of mine.  My kiss before work. My kiss before bed.  The one who holds me when I’m sleeping, who knows my nightmares, my dreams, my fears, my hurt, my every word that I dare not speak to anyone else. You are the one I experience and want to always continue experiencing every moment with. You are the one I want to beat the shit out of half of the time, the guy that never shuts up when I’m trying to listen to something else, you are the most annoying person I have ever met in my entire life. You are my safety net, my punching bag, my secret keeper.

You are my growing up, my maturity when my own age gets in the way. You are the one who reminds me of what really matters. You are my steady, my calm in the midst of my own storms. You tell me I’m pretty when I’m ugly, tell me I’m the world when I feel like poo, say “Fuck ’em” when I let somebody who doesn’t matter get to me.

You are my first, the guy I fell for hard and unexpectedly, You are the dude that I am going to make really pretty babies with one day.

You are my reason for being married so young.  There are a thousand obvious reasons to get married, to stay married,to be in a relationship at all. Time,  feelings, fear, money, kids,security….I could go on.  You are my reason for being in this. You and who you are and gosh darnit you are such a beautiful man. For me, It’s as simple as that.

You are the one who just turned to me right this second and said, slightly tipsy, “Baby, I love you so much. You are my beautiful wife.I love coming home to you everyday.”  Jeeze,boy. I knew there was a reason I was writing this.

18 thoughts on “To you,dear.

  1. “My kiss before work. My kiss before bed.” That sentence, amongst the many others, stood out the most. This is so sweet and he’s right…anyone who gives you shit is just jealous. Remember that the next time I give you shit. 😉 Love you much…perfect blog.

  2. Meg says:

    awww almost brought tears to my eyes! So sweet. and for not knowing how to put how you feel into words you did a pretty good job hahaha

    • Actually, this was meant for your new post. Having the comment on top of the post just messes me up every time. But I should have known as soon as I saw people commenting about your husband. My bad! haha

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