He is no knight in shining armour, prince charming or particularly good with words.
No white horse, just a practical sedan with good mileage and it’s a miracle if I can get him to wear something other than t-shirts.
No passionate love-making in the middle of the night or cuddling each other to sleep.
It’s more like you stole my blanket, no you stole mine, let’s just get two blankets.
It’s five minutes of cuddling before, is this 127 hours I can’t feel my arm, your hair is in my mouth, you are snoring into my ear.
It’s less candlelit dinners and breakfasts in bed, more of can you please decide on what to eat I am starving.
It’s less sexting and steamy emails at work, more like what do you need from the grocery store for the love of God, buy milk.
It’s less presents, flowers and shiny things more like changing the bulb, reaching for things on the top shelf because of my height limitations, kill all the cockroaches.
It’s less sweet nothings and careless whispers, more of reminders to drink water, eat your vegetables unhand the potato chips and back away slowly you are getting fat.
It’s less fairytale, more hard work.
It’s difficult, challenging and requires constant effort but always worth it.
This love is boring but I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
Happy Valentine’s Day, you.