I write about Thor frequently, and I think I’m fairly clear that he is the light of my world, and the best thing that has ever happened to me. I had a great life before he came along, but from the moment I heard his first cry–well, it was like going from an oil lamp to a room full of 200 watt lightbulbs. That’s easy to shout from the rooftops, and I am unashamedly his biggest fan.
I write about my mom and my best friends, and I have no problem telling you that I love them all as extensions of myself. They are always on my mind, and I feel very deeply for them.
When it comes to love, I don’t write so much about my husband. Why? I was thinking about that while having a conversation with a friend today. I really don’t like admitting how much in love with him I am. Isn’t that silly? I am happy to tell you that I love my husband. I am happy to tell you how content I am within our relationship. I do not like letting on just how much he means to me. I do not like letting on that I would be lost without him.
I am not a gooey romantic. I’m not a pet name calling, shmoopy, swooning bride. I would just as soon punch B in the arm in public as kiss him. Maybe I would rather punch him in the arm. Kissing is too vulnerable. Letting on how much I love him is too vulnerable.
At my most naked, you will find Bryan because with Bryan is where I want to be–where I choose to be. My choice in him as a partner, my choice in him as a co-parent, my choice in him as my future tells you more about Lane than anything else in the world could. I am, and I say this with full understanding of what the words mean, embarrassed, even a little humiliated at how deeply I desire his validation, and at how much I want his approval. I really don’t care what anyone else in the world thinks–I want to be liked, but I can take or leave anyone except him. I care what he thinks of me.
Both of us being human, we aren’t perfect by any means, but I trust B absolutely. And there’s where I feel the most vulnerable, and maybe even naive given my family history, but I can’t help myself. I trust B like I love him, and that is without limits.
I like for you to think that I am practical and realistic, like a well sifted, exact cup of baking flour. The reality is that when it comes to my feelings for my husband, I am a heaping, lumpy, lovesick mess. I’ve decided that’s all right. Sloppy suits me.
2 thoughts on “B-eing in Love”
I adore this post and it’s subject almost as much as I adore you!
Yeah, I feel kinda like that about this new piece of rock climbing gear. It’s an ultralite ATC, and not only does it have the two rope holes, it has ANOTHER one to attach with some webbing. Yes, you read that right ANOTHER tertiary spot so it can be strapped to your harness with a quickdraw!
I knew, from the moment I saw it, it was love at first sight! I didn’t let on to the salesman how much in love I was with that ATC, and at 29.99, it was a total bargain! I know exactly how you feel.
Joking aside, you and your husband are great. You are the best thing to happen to him. Second of course to meeting me. Just kidding… but yeah…. just playin…. nahh… ok seriously….