So, it's Valentine's Day.
We don't really celebrate holidays, particularly ones like this. The whole thing just feels dirty and exploitative. The last thing we need is chocolate, and a greeting card written by a committee of strangers means about as much to me as a slap across my tight, young face.
But, that doesn't mean I can't gush lovingly about my own sweet Valentine. The one winking mischievously and looking all tall, midrange skin-tone-wise, and handsome.
We're approaching the 5 year mark in our relationship, and boy is that obvious. We share a house and a life and a 750 gram brick of cheese nightly. We're at that gorgeous stage where our little quirks and foibles are nearly attractive. The charm in a real lack of morning-skills starts to shine through. There's a certain something in the way someone can at once piss you off and warm your heart. It makes me recall being a kid, when I'd ask my Mom why my Dad would say or do something, and she'd reply "He's been like this for 35 years, and he'll be like this forever." I always thought she was being passive, but I'm starting to see how these things are just true, and in that, lovely. There's no changing people, as Jeff certainly knows; he's been begging me for years to stop crash-bam-slamming around the house, but I can't, it's what I do. Subtlety is not my strong suit, in case you don't know me, and I'll be like this forever.
I can't say for sure what I'd change about him, but I know for certain what I wouldn't. Not his quick wit, or his misguided attempts at discussing politics. Not his ability to tell it like it is, even when it isn't, or his apparent mandate to put his foot in his mouth publicly. I wouldn't change the way he loves his friends or the way he looks holding a baby. I wouldn't change how great jeans showcase his ass, or how nice he is to strangers. I wouldn't dare change the way he listens to me read letters from my Grandma, the moment they arrive, a monthly ritual that means so much to me. I wouldn't change how he shakes his head in disbelief when my sister and I go off on one of our tag-team-tangents, or the way he rocks himself to sleep at night. And I wouldn't change the way he playfully tells me to shut the fuck up! when I've simply been talking too much.