‘Whatever you do don’t fall for him, he’s bad news,’ my friend said as we talked about you a couple of days after we’d met. You conformed to many negative male stereotypes- a singer in a band, a ladies man, dangerous and rebellious. You were (and are) quiet and I interpreted this quiet for something deep and mysterious.
In actuality you are just quiet and that’s okay.
We’ve been together for nineteen years this month. On our first date I was so nervous that I dropped my matches all over the floor of the pub. You waited six months and then told me you hated smoking and always had. I’d only been trying to be cool.
I will never be as cool as you and that’s okay.
I love that you can cook so I never have to burn food anymore. I love the way you are with Rae. I love the feeling of safety I get when you arrive home. I love that you sort out all the details so I don’t have to think about it.
(I also love your bum and it cheers me up on gloomy mornings when you clamber out of bed to make a cup of tea).
Love is not about changing someone to fit your ideal.
You’re quiet and cool. I’m loud and not. And that’s perfect you see.