My love makes me laugh. He can be childish and filthy, but never fails to be amusing. My days are filled with joy when he is beside me. My love makes me smile. He is sweet and charming. Always ready with a compliment and a kind word. He tells me that I am beautiful a hundred times a day. My love makes me feel important. He anticipates my needs and does things for me that I didn’t even know I needed. My love is full of surprises. Root beer and cookies in the fridge after a long week at work. And a hand drawn marauder’s map to help me find them.
My love is talented and brilliant. He can solve complex equations, kick your ass at Black Ops, play the guitar, and give your rhino a bath. He never gets lost. Even when none of the road signs are in English. Yeah, he can fix your computer, no problem. And he makes an excellent cup of tea while I’m still bumbling around barely able to tie my shoes in the morning. My love has a sexy British accent. What could possibly be bad about that. My love thinks lizards are adorable and goes into fits of excitement every time he sees a dog in the street.
My love makes me feel safe. He thinks I am nearly perfect even when my emotions overwhelm my reason. He never lets my clumsiness get the better of me. My love is like no one I’ve ever known. He makes me giggle like a girl just to look at him sometimes. I simply must wrap my arms around him. He takes care of me, even though I swore I didn’t need taking care of. He makes my life peaceful. My happiness is his personal mission. His love is overwhelming, and I am a better person for trying to deserve it. He is kind, and thoughtful, and generous. He is sweet, and passionate, and funny. And will be mine forever. How could I possibly be happier?