My idea of love is...

            I was just asked what I thought love is. Truthfully, I feel that’s such a loaded question. Love is different for everyone. I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks this. Since the question was posed to me, I decided I’ll just write what I think it is, in my very limited experience.

            The beginning of love is- Some times it’s a slow burn- I may have known them forever, but then there was that casual touch, that look. Now I don’t see them the same way. Or maybe it was instant- I had to cross the room just to talk to them. I may come across too strong, but they respond well and don’t even think I’m a looney for it. I don’t have to be around them every second of every day, but part of me wants to be. 

            The goofy smile I get on my face when I hear from them, how uncool I am when I respond. Shit- did I text back too fast? Did I just laugh like a hyena when they told me a joke? Eff I totally just snorted, and they heard it. Oh Niki- stop trying to act like you aren’t excited. I suck at aloof. This of course leads me to kicking myself until they respond again, and all is well with the world because they didn’t write me off. They happen to think I’m quirky, and dorky, sexy, and maybe even charming.

            I’m starting to learn their likes and dislikes, where they like to eat, what they like to do with their free time. I’m already too forgiving of things that would bother me in other people, but they are becoming my person. Dear god, don’t show them how twitterpatted I am, and if we have sex soon… well, then I’m done for. All I want to do is climb them like a tree, but I have to remind myself giving away the cookies too soon is not a good idea.

            They figured out that running their fingers down my neck is like kryptonite, and how much I love it when they touch my face when they kiss me.  For someone whose number one love language is not touch, I can’t get enough of touching them. They realize when I say I’m easygoing I actually mean it, and I really don’t think hard about how I dress, these patterns just clash together magically.  They forgive my dorky outbursts, and the fact I’m terrible at goodbyes- I could go on kissing them forever. Because I’m such a girl, I keep thinking of songs I want to share with them, they remind me of how I’m feeling.

            The thick of it- They aren’t the root of my happiness, but they enhance it. They set me on fire, and cool me down. When we get in a fight, even through my anger I want the fight to be over so we can make up. I want them to hold me and whisper in my ear they love me. They have seen me at my very worst- in the fetal position with the covers up to my nose, throwing the world’s biggest pity party. I’ve seen them angry- which truly frightens me, but I realize isn’t my job to fix. We bought two tubes of toothpaste because we squeeze toothpaste differently, so instead of fighting about it we found a compromise.

            We’ve begun a routine, maybe the way we lay out each other’s laundry, who does the dishes, takes out the trash. I fill out all the holiday and birthday cards, they drive on all the trips so I can pass out in the passenger seat.  We have the most exquisite ability to drive the other one crazy. They ruffle my hair when they see me because they know I hate it, I nibble the end of their nose, can’t really tell you why.  There isn’t a question mark, we are us.

            The rough part- Maybe we’ve been fighting too much. Maybe I became depressed, and they are taking it personally. I used to love their drive, now I think they work too damn much. We are frustrated, and scared. We have to choose.

            That’s when we show how truly brave we are. We stand by each other. We love one another, we just don’t like each other that much right now. I started looking back at pictures, remembering how much easier it was before I found out their mother hated me, how everyone expects us to hurry up and get married and produce some munchkins. Before I found out they were jealous of what I do for a living, and how I really hate how much they don’t listen when I talk. They can’t stand how much cooking bores me, and how sometimes I can spend entire days in bed watching Netflix or reading a book. I keep playing the cornball line from the Wedding Date in my head, “I’d rather fight with you than make love with anyone else.”

            They are my person, my partner, my friend. My champion, confidant, and sometimes the thorn in my side. We are not perfect- we are two imperfect people who chose one another. We chose. So now we are in this ride together, thick through thin. They are there for me, just like I am there for them. Even when one of us is scared, we fight through our fear. We don’t hold it against the other when we fail, fall short of who we know we can be. We check our pride, because pride only gets in the way of things.  We make each other better. Sometimes worse, but mostly better. We may not be the stuff of fairytales, and our love doesn’t always make sense to a casual observer. None of that matters. We are together, and we both believe we can conquer this life at each others side.

That’s what I think love is.

“I may not be a smart man, but I know what love is.” –Forrest Gump

“I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy- asking him to love her.” – Notting Hill

“You make me want to be a better man.” – As good as it gets

“It’s only in the mysterious equation of love that any logic or reason can be found.” – A beautiful Mind