He somehow thinks it’s cute when I do silly/inappropriate/embarrassing/not-girly things. Somehow.
He doesn’t think normal bodily functions are gross.
He is so polite to everybody that I feel proud to be associated with him.
He worries about me when I forget to worry about myself.
His beautiful, expressive blue eyes.
All the silly little expressions his hair makes.
His body, duh. 😉
The way his hands feel warm and loving and tough and soft all at the same time.
How safe and perfectly happy I feel when he holds me.
How easy it is to come up with this list!
How hard he tries to exchange jokes and smiles and stories with my parents and how happy it makes them.
How much faith he has in me, and how he somehow managed to make me have faith in myself. It’s a goddamn miracle.
How he loves to learn about the biggest and littlest things.
How excited he gets about silly ideas like making cloaks or climbing trees or sneaking across bridges or getting cool matching tattoos.
He’s the only person in the whole world who has ever convinced me I’m not crazy.
The shape of his tummy. That cute little belly button.
The tickles he makes with his fuzzy, fuzzy face.
He’s so tenaciously sweet. Seriously, it takes real dedication sometimes.
How grateful he is to be loved.
The silly little sounds he makes when he’s happy or excited. They’re so contagious!
How happy it makes me to see his goofy smile. 😀
How he knows little tidbits of information from EVERYWHERE and loves to share them.
What a considerate sweetie he is. I’ve never known anybody to wash so many dishes or do so much laundry or clean so many things of his own free will.
How he picks me up no matter how tired he is just because he knows it makes me freaking ecstatic to be SO TALL.
How hard he tries to cheer me up even when it seems totally hopeless, especially when it seems totally hopeless.
How he loves me and my body even when I so totally don’t…
The “come hither” face with the eyebrows. Hehehehe
How he makes me breakfasts and lunches and dinners, even though preparing food is his job and I’m sure he gets tired of it every now and then.
How he’s not afraid to cry.
He’s not afraid of me crying.
He’s so freaking cuddly and he never gets tired of the cuddles and I just love the cuddles more than life because cuddles are life.
Somehow he got me into the idea of making babies.
The sex is fantastic (which probably helped with the idea of making babies).
I didn’t know making love was actually a thing until he taught me how.
He thinks intelligence is sexy, which makes me feel sexy.
He understands the importance of human equality without falling for the belief in human superiority.
He doesn’t criticize and even supports my general reluctance to wear clothes. Which is a relief, because I prefer to bare as much as others can bear.
How he understands and even laughs at my stupidass jokes!
How perfectly he fits into our little team of two. How he feels like my partner and not just my fuck friend.
How he’ll even sacrifice sleep for me. That’s true love right there.
He gets so excited at the thought of being a dad that I get a little excited with him.
How happy I get at the thought of making him smile.
He keeps his nails trimmed.
He compliments me at the WEIRDEST times and it catches me off-guard and makes me feel loved.
He really, really wants to make me feel loved. And actually listens to me when I tell him I’m not feelin’ it.
I feel safe telling him any stupid, scary, silly, or senseless thing that comes to mind.
He tries to teach me cool stuff like sign language or how to sharpen knives (still struggle with that one) or how to shoot a gun or briefly magnetize a needle.
He tells me when something’s bothering him (though I wish he would tell me more often).
I love him so much that I wish for him every time I toss a penny into the air or see a star shoot through the sky or blow out birthday candles or lose an eyelash or when I just feel like it. (It doesn’t count as telling if you don’t share the exact wish, right…?)
We are the coolest. In your faces, not-cool people. Bitches.